The Brotherhood
by Rydwall
Summary: A series of stories detailing intimate, quiet moments between the Brotherhood, set during FFXV. After, a series of alternate reality tales, showing new landscapes and time periods, but still following the FFXV template.
1. Chapter 1: Ghost Stories

The afternoon light was fading as they ran through the underbrush, golden rays shooting through the thick branches to light up the path, the fog already rolling across the distant mountains. His legs ached, unused to the long hours of running they'd been doing lately, and his breath came in hitches. Finally, he spoke up, despite the fact it was obvious the others felt the same, but wouldn't speak up out of pride, and a masculine air they always kept up, even when no one was around to see it. "Maybe we should call it."

He slowed to a trot, hands on his hips; night was coming, and it wasn't safe to be out, a chilly breeze already blowing, the howls of creatures they would rather not meet echoing from the heart of the forest. Ahead, the air shimmered like heat waves from a fire, the tell tale signs of a camping area. There was a hum in the air, like a distant song you have remembered from the past.

"I'm all for it...the heat is making me all icky," Prompto said, fanning himself. His tank clung to his body, sweat beaded on his forehead. Noct nodded, a bit annoyed Prompto had made this all about him, but it was too hot to argue, and night was coming fast, the light fading from gold to amber in the sky.

"There's a campground ahead," Gladio grunted, rubbing his shoulder: he'd gotten hit during a minor skirmish with some wolves, nursing a shoulder only just recently popped back into the joint by Noct, angering easily with nerves dangling on the edge. "We can make camp for the night, get some grub."

"I guess it'll have to do," Prompto said, dejected. He'd been looking forward to a hotel room, a hot shower, and a Chocobo feather bed, and hadn't been shy about dropping hints about it all day, mentioning how wonderful the beds at hotels were at every opportunity, and pretending to be waving away stench from the other four's sweat.

But it was all for nothing; the day had lagged on as they ran along the cliffs trying to find some crystals a patron of the last diner had requested, not finding them, getting into twenty minor skirmishes, and Prompto promptly running out of bullets right as a hoard of imps had ambushed them. It hadn't been the best day, and everyone just wanted to go to bed.

"Complaining isn't helping right now, Prompto," Ignis said tiredly, shoving his glasses up his sweaty nose with a wearied hand, fingers shaking slightly. He hadn't been battered about as badly as the others, but he was just as tired, wrists aching from swinging the lance strapped to his back so many times, hard blows working his muscles to the max. He still had to make the evening meal, while they all relaxed and chatted. If anyone had a right to complain, it was him.

Gladio didn't say anything, working his arm in short circles, his normally placid expression unable to mask the small winces creeping across his face as the bones rubbed together. Out of all of them, Gladio was the toughest, and would've denied pain with a cut jugular. He took his job as the King's Guard seriously, nothing stopping his vows, not even dislocated joints.

It took a few minutes for them to reach the plateau, blue runes traced across the rock face glowing faintly. Rumors had long flown about the true nature of the camping spaces scattered across the world, everything from aliens to scientific meddling to aid imperial troops, but no one really knew the truth. The only thing that mattered about them was how much they aided hikers and explorers. Creatures didn't bother you on them, and everyone confessed to sleeping more peacefully than they had in years.

That was all they needed to hear.

Prompto suddenly found the strength to run ahead, racing up the slopped rock at a long legged gait, leaving the others far behind. He didn't bother to bring the tent with him, however, Gladio shouldering the bulky bundle on his good shoulder, Noct bearing the weight of the food bags. Not even Ignis was completely empty handed, as he lugged the fire starter kits in a cloth sack. Everything was packed securely, in containers that were easy to toss aside during a sudden skirmish without damaging the tents inside.

Out in the wild, a sturdy tent was life or death, when it came down to cold and rain.

"Come on you guys, it's getting dark," Prompto called, sitting crossed legged in the center of the rock, looking annoyed at them for being slower than him. Gladio's reply was to toss the tent at him as he struggled up the rock, his knees beginning to lock up. The bundle knocked Prompto onto his back, his cry an overreaction that made Noct chuckle.

"Try to help, huh? Everyone else pulls their weight," he said, Prompto shooting him a look as he struggled out from under the tent's bulk. Noct didn't even try to help, setting up the portable grill and tables, prepping for whatever new meal Ignis had concocted during their travels. Gladio had picked up a new type of mushroom on the mountainside, Ignis declaring it was perfect for a fish recipe he'd wanted to try.

Although they were often teased for how Ignis did all the cooking for the group, becoming their literal den mother, he knew his way around a sauce pan.

The sun lowered into the sky, shadows running across the forest floor as they finally finished setting up the tents and chairs around the fire pit, striking wood from the stones edges to make a roaring fire. Another thing highly gossiped about was the firewood, as every stone seemed mysteriously stocked with enough random logs to make a single fire, good for the single night most people stayed. Ignis had been cooking for awhile, the sweet scents of broiling fish and oiled mushrooms filling the air, his skilled hands quickly tossing in spices and chopped vegetables from the food bag.

"It's getting dark!" Prompto declared, tipping his chair back on two legs, hanging in the air for a moment,arms in the air, before all four legs slammed into the ground, pitching him forwards, a grin on his face.

"...and?" Gladio asked, still not looking up from his book. He'd been delving into Japanese fight techniques lately, devouring books on Bushido and samurai defenses. He was currently reading The Art of War, and barely looked up from it unless a sudden fight or hot meal forced him to. The book wasn't even in English, so Noct often wondered when Gladio had taken Japanese courses, or whether it was a required thing for the King's guard.

"Ghost stories, bruh!" Prompto declared, rubbing his hands together giddily. Behind him, Ignis blinked from his place behind the grill, but said nothing.

Gladio rolled his eyes; Noct didn't know what exactly to do, voice questioning. "Uh... ghost stories?"

"Uh, yeah!" Prompto said, in a tone that was far to excited for that late at night, after the hard day they'd had.

The twelve potions he'd had for battle wounds probably hadn't helped... everyone knew the healing elixirs were chock full of sugar and caffeine.

"Ghosts don't exist," Ignis said, but slightly under his breath to not offend Prompto too badly.

Noct heard, and stifled a grin in a fake cough: Prompto got over zelous about the smallest things sometimes, like the afternoon he spent three hours singing the Chocobo jingle from the radio commercials. The whole group kept "accidentally" tripping him that day, saying nothing about it when he fell over yet another out stretched foot while racing along the forest paths.

"I heard a good one on the road," Prompto was saying, as Ignis fried up the now oiled fish, adding mushroom slices and pepper. The scent was mouth watering, but Prompto ignored it, off to the races with his new tale. "Cindy said it was totally legit, she heard it from a hunter."

Because everything Cindy says is obviously true, no doubt about it, Noct thought, sipping his water. Promtpo's not exactly subtle crush on Cindy was showing flamboyantly...

"Ah, a Hammerhead yarn?" Ignis cut in, serving the fish on camp plates with a side of sauce made from mushroom and wild herbs, the smell heavenly. Noct waited a grand total of four second before digging in. "They do seem to have a rich folk tale society going on there." His tone was lingering on sarcasm, but only just avoiding it.

As Promtpo began his story ("So, this hunter went into the tunnels one night, trying to find this cool ore thing..."), Gladio kept reading, Noct feigned interest, Ignis set up the sleeping rolls, and the night lowered onto the world around them.

In the distance, an owl hooted loudly, making Prompto jump slightly in his seat, eyes alight as his low grade horror tale ("...and the imps had torn a ton of people apart before him! He could barely escape!").

It was a nice night, despite everything. A welcome reprieve from the hard battles of the day, and a reprieve from thoughts of the struggles in the coming days.

The afternoon light was fading as they ran through the underbrush, golden rays shooting through the thick branches to light up the path, the fog already rolling across the distant mountains. His legs ached, unused to the long hours of running they'd been doing lately, and his breath came in hitches. Finally, he spoke up, despite the fact it was obvious the others felt the same, but wouldn't speak up out of pride, and a masculine air they always kept up, even when no one was around to see it. "Maybe we should call it."

He slowed to a trot, hands on his hips; night was coming, and it wasn't safe to be out, a chilly breeze already blowing, the howls of creatures they would rather not meet echoing from the heart of the forest. Ahead, the air shimmered like heat waves from a fire, the tell tale signs of a camping area. There was a hum in the air, like a distant song you have remembered from the past.

"I'm all for it...the heat is making me all icky," Prompto said, fanning himself. His tank clung to his body, sweat beaded on his forehead. Noct nodded, a bit annoyed Prompto had made this all about him, but it was too hot to argue, and night was coming fast, the light fading from gold to amber in the sky.

"There's a campground ahead," Gladio grunted, rubbing his shoulder: he'd gotten hit during a minor skirmish with some wolves, nursing a shoulder only just recently popped back into the joint by Noct, angering easily with nerves dangling on the edge. "We can make camp for the night, get some grub."

"I guess it'll have to do," Prompto said, dejected. He'd been looking forward to a hotel room, a hot shower, and a Chocobo feather bed, and hadn't been shy about dropping hints about it all day, mentioning how wonderful the beds at hotels were at every opportunity, and pretending to be waving away stench from the other four's sweat.

But it was all for nothing; the day had lagged on as they ran along the cliffs trying to find some crystals a patron of the last diner had requested, not finding them, getting into twenty minor skirmishes, and Prompto promptly running out of bullets right as a hoard of imps had ambushed them. It hadn't been the best day, and everyone just wanted to go to bed.

"Complaining isn't helping right now, Prompto," Ignis said tiredly, shoving his glasses up his sweaty nose with a wearied hand, fingers shaking slightly. He hadn't been battered about as badly as the others, but he was just as tired, wrists aching from swinging the lance strapped to his back so many times, hard blows working his muscles to the max. He still had to make the evening meal, while they all relaxed and chatted. If anyone had a right to complain, it was him.

Gladio didn't say anything, working his arm in short circles, his normally placid expression unable to mask the small winces creeping across his face as the bones rubbed together. Out of all of them, Gladio was the toughest, and would've denied pain with a cut jugular. He took his job as the King's Guard seriously, nothing stopping his vows, not even dislocated joints.

It took a few minutes for them to reach the plateau, blue runes traced across the rock face glowing faintly. Rumors had long flown about the true nature of the camping spaces scattered across the world, everything from aliens to scientific meddling to aid imperial troops, but no one really knew the truth. The only thing that mattered about them was how much they aided hikers and explorers. Creatures didn't bother you on them, and everyone confessed to sleeping more peacefully than they had in years.

That was all they needed to hear.

Prompto suddenly found the strength to run ahead, racing up the slopped rock at a long legged gait, leaving the others far behind. He didn't bother to bring the tent with him, however, Gladio shouldering the bulky bundle on his good shoulder, Noct bearing the weight of the food bags. Not even Ignis was completely empty handed, as he lugged the fire starter kits in a cloth sack. Everything was packed securely, in containers that were easy to toss aside during a sudden skirmish without damaging the tents inside.

Out in the wild, a sturdy tent was life or death, when it came down to cold and rain.

"Come on you guys, it's getting dark," Prompto called, sitting crossed legged in the center of the rock, looking annoyed at them for being slower than him. Gladio's reply was to toss the tent at him as he struggled up the rock, his knees beginning to lock up. The bundle knocked Prompto onto his back, his cry an overreaction that made Noct chuckle.

"Try to help, huh? Everyone else pulls their weight," he said, Prompto shooting him a look as he struggled out from under the tent's bulk. Noct didn't even try to help, setting up the portable grill and tables, prepping for whatever new meal Ignis had concocted during their travels. Gladio had picked up a new type of mushroom on the mountainside, Ignis declaring it was perfect for a fish recipe he'd wanted to try.

Although they were often teased for how Ignis did all the cooking for the group, becoming their literal den mother, he knew his way around a sauce pan.

The sun lowered into the sky, shadows running across the forest floor as they finally finished setting up the tents and chairs around the fire pit, striking wood from the stones edges to make a roaring fire. Another thing highly gossiped about was the firewood, as every stone seemed mysteriously stocked with enough random logs to make a single fire, good for the single night most people stayed. Ignis had been cooking for awhile, the sweet scents of broiling fish and oiled mushrooms filling the air, his skilled hands quickly tossing in spices and chopped vegetables from the food bag.

"It's getting dark!" Prompto declared, tipping his chair back on two legs, hanging in the air for a moment,arms in the air, before all four legs slammed into the ground, pitching him forwards, a grin on his face.

"...and?" Gladio asked, still not looking up from his book. He'd been delving into Japanese fight techniques lately, devouring books on Bushido and samurai defenses. He was currently reading The Art of War, and barely looked up from it unless a sudden fight or hot meal forced him to. The book wasn't even in English, so Noct often wondered when Gladio had taken Japanese courses, or whether it was a required thing for the King's guard.

"Ghost stories, bruh!" Prompto declared, rubbing his hands together giddily. Behind him, Ignis blinked from his place behind the grill, but said nothing.

Gladio rolled his eyes; Noct didn't know what exactly to do, voice questioning. "Uh... ghost stories?"

"Uh, yeah!" Prompto said, in a tone that was far to excited for that late at night, after the hard day they'd had.

The twelve potions he'd had for battle wounds probably hadn't helped... everyone knew the healing elixirs were chock full of sugar and caffeine.

"Ghosts don't exist," Ignis said, but slightly under his breath to not offend Prompto too badly.

Noct heard, and stifled a grin in a fake cough: Prompto got over zelous about the smallest things sometimes, like the afternoon he spent three hours singing the Chocobo jingle from the radio commercials. The whole group kept "accidentally" tripping him that day, saying nothing about it when he fell over yet another out stretched foot while racing along the forest paths.

"I heard a good one on the road," Prompto was saying, as Ignis fried up the now oiled fish, adding mushroom slices and pepper. The scent was mouth watering, but Prompto ignored it, off to the races with his new tale. "Cindy said it was totally legit, she heard it from a hunter."

Because everything Cindy says is obviously true, no doubt about it, Noct thought, sipping his water. Promtpo's not exactly subtle crush on Cindy was showing flamboyantly...

"Ah, a Hammerhead yarn?" Ignis cut in, serving the fish on camp plates with a side of sauce made from mushroom and wild herbs, the smell heavenly. Noct waited a grand total of four second before digging in. "They do seem to have a rich folk tale society going on there." His tone was lingering on sarcasm, but only just avoiding it.

As Promtpo began his story ("So, this hunter went into the tunnels one night, trying to find this cool ore thing..."), Gladio kept reading, Noct feigned interest, Ignis set up the sleeping rolls, and the night lowered onto the world around them.

In the distance, an owl hooted loudly, making Prompto jump slightly in his seat, eyes alight as his low grade horror tale ("...and the imps had torn a ton of people apart before him! He could barely escape!").

It was a nice night, despite everything. A welcome reprieve from the hard battles of the day, and a reprieve from thoughts of the struggles in the coming days.


	2. Chapter 2: Heat Wave

It had been a blistering day, the dust floating in the air like ghosts, the sun beating down from the sky with no pity, the only cloud coverings mild puffs that fizzed away all too soon, golden rays baking the earth, filtering through the trees in arrows of light that burned fair skin lobster red in minutes.

The mp3 player had run out of battery hours ago, dying mid song, the nearest station ten miles back, or six ahead. Either or, it was out of the question for the time being, and Prompto didn't let them forget it.

"If we hadn't used the batteries for Noct's sword back in Lestalm," he began, yet again, wiping the sweat from his brow with a rag, face red from the heat, "we could at least have some tunes..."

"Hey, don't give me that," Noct snapped, brushing hair out his eyes. "That upgrade wiped out two Bandersnatch. Didn't see you doing any good back there."

He didn't mean to be cruel: he didn't really have anything against Prompto, but the heat was making them all cranky, sounding like children who needed a nap.

Prompto pouted, but said nothing, crossing his arms. Everyone walked on in silence, a cloud rolling across the sun for a cool minute, before the heat returned. The area they were walking through was scrub brush and sand, a few scraggly trees casting the odd shadow now and then. They'd gotten turned around chasing down a wolf pack that had been picking off farmer's chickens and small pets, the post offering 3,000 gil. It had been too good to pass up, but now Noct was regretting it. The scrub blurred together after awhile, plains broken by mountain passes and hills of scraggly weeds with prickers. It was a nightmare.

Granted, they'd been through worse so far, but it was pretty damn uncomfortable.

"... anyone got water, at least?" Prompto asked, about twenty minutes later. He'd pulled off his jacket, his tank glued to his skin with sweat. Gladio had tied his jacket around his waist, his bare chest and belly shining in the light. Only Ignis stayed fully clothed, regal to the end, even forgoing his own comfort to keep the royal uniform.

Noct sighed, digging into his pack for one of the luke warm bottles of water he'd jammed into it when they'd left the last store, wincing as he pricked his fingers on something. He licked the drop of blood away, fishing into the bag with his other hand.

"I think I lost 'em all..." he said, hearing glass clink in his satchel.

He'd dropped it during a skirmish, and the monster had trampled it once or twice.

"Awwwwwwwwwww..." Prompto whined, making Noct roll his eyes.

Gladio thumped him on the shoulder. "Here, take mine, and stop acting like a child."

Prompto gulped down the water with a half-choked thanks.

Gladio sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah...just..whatever, Prompto..."

Noct was just starting to say something vaguely encouraging about the next town being a mile away, more likely than not, when the bushes ahead began rustling, leaves raining down. Something was coming, something big.

Ignis groaned, unsheathing his dual knives, Gladio getting a grip on his sword hilt. Prompto scurried off a few feet away, gun barrels reeling as he loaded. Noct pulled out his newly repaired sword, glaring down whatever was coming. He was too hot and too pissed to take crap off anything right now.

The bushes ahead suddenly blazed away, a blast of fire making them step back: a burning heat filled the air, as a creature of rock and magma lumbered into the clearing. How they hadn't see it from far away, with what little brush there was, could be chalked up to how tired they all were.

Noct grinned, flicking the shiny nozzle on the sword hilt, the hum of batteries filling the air. He stepped forward, braced his legs, and fired a stream of ice at the creature. The air sizzled, as the black, dead rock fell to the ground. Noct blew on the sword, icicles freezing his bangs. "So...you were saying about wasted batteries?"

"Uhm, you know what?" Prompto said, frowning. "Just never mind..."

Noct hadn't laughed so hard in weeks, as, indeed, another mile's much cooler hike showed the next town. Prompto's cheeks didn't stop blazing the whole day.


	3. Chapter 3: Weighty Memories

Prompto wasn't fat, thank you very much: he hadn't been a pound over 100 since he was small, and he was proud of it. Keeping lean and fit kept him fast, and fast often meant the difference between living and dying when you were faced with creatures in the field.

They were stopped at a dusty station in the desert somewhere, off roading it for awhile to track down a Bandersnatch nest for a few extra gil. They had found the nasty buggers holed up in a mountain side, and wiped them out in no time. Gladio has used some sort of Bushido move he'd been studying in those books of his to wipe the things out, heads rolling like tomatoes across the grass. It had been an amazing sight, but Prompt had felt a pang of jealously: he'd only gotten in a few good swipes, severing a leg or two, but his aim had been off, and bullets hit the Bandersnatch's sides to bounce off harmlessly.

He'd played it off in the car on the ride home, but now, it hurt. It hurt badly.

He stood in the men's room, light filtering through holes in the wooden boards of the wall, standing in front of the dusty mirror. It had once been a mirror from a house, meant to hang in a hall to reflect portraits or other art, so it really didn't fit the wall, taking up the wall from sink to behind the toilet. There was no escaping your reflection, even as you took a piss or dressed or what all, and Prompto's weary face looked back at him blankly from the smudged glass, dark circles marring his skin under his eyes.

He pulled a face, sticking his tongue out childishly. The reflection mimicked him perfectly, but even he thought it looked strained. He was tired, dirty, and in the dumps from Gladio's victory. Nothing was going to look joyful right then.

"Ahhh..." He sighed. "To slow on the uptake, Prompt. You missed the opening. Blew the shot."

His reflection didn't seem to mind the personal berating, and blinked calmly, tiredly, back at him.

He glared at himself, ruffling his already dirty hair, making sand trickle into his eyes. He needed a quick wash off, honestly. The sink would do... tear a rag from his spare jacket, wash up good before they took off again.

He pulled his shirt off, groaning as the material slid over a cut along his side, a souviner from the Bandersnatch knocking him into a rock during the fight. It had stopped bleeding, but would leave a nasty scar, tracing along his body from under his right nipple to his waistline.

"Hey, chicks did scars," He said, chuckling.

Suddenly, he imagined fingers tracing the scar, running along his skin. He blushed, thinking of Cindy...

He shook his head. "Take a cold shower, Prompt... not the time."

He refused to meet his own reflection's eyes, as he rummaged in his pack for the spare jacket. It was a light one, a dark brown colour, saved for when his normal one was dirty. He didn't feel bad about tearing a good strip off of it, wetting it in the cloudy water from the sink.

Wringing it out, he looked in the mirror, really looked at himself, closely examining his body.

He was slender, but his abs were light, there but not firm or chiseled like Gladio was, and a line of blonde hair led down his navel. He was normally a stickler for shaving up, but on the road he didn't have much time for it. He was just glad he didn't grow much beyond light fuzz on his face.

With a sigh, Prompto scrubbed under his arms with the rag, the water making his skin goose pimple from the chill. He'd have preferred a normal shower, but what can you do? It was nice to scrape the road dirt off his chest, and not stink like a pig for awhile.

He glanced in the mirror at his waist, making sure it was still slender, even though he knew that was ridiculous; he hadn't eaten too much crap on the road, and they all got more than enough exercise during random battles, and all the running and hiding from Imperials.

Years ago... he wasn't like this.

...

Walking home from school was hard; it was a half mile, but every day he came home out of breath from the walk. Luckily, Big Girl was on the walk home, with their student's special.

Big Girl was a greasy fast food place that did well with the teens, and Prompto ate there every day after classes, a fact his every growing gut attested to. He wore baggier and baggier shirts, but it was still hard to hide how much weight he'd put on over the years, as middle school wrapped up.

The attendant smiled as she handed Prompto his usual order, but her eyes skated over him briefly: something like pity was in her eyes.

He nodded a thanks, and left, digging into the fries on his way into the alley, his neighborhood sprawled at the mouth of it, kids flooding the small play park at the end of the block.

The fries were gone by the time he made it to his house, the late afternoon sun filtering through the trees, the pavement damp from a rainstorm earlier in the morning. Grease slicked his fingers, making it hard to get a grip on the key, but he made it.

"I'm home!" He called, hearing nothing. He didn't expect to: Mom was out at work all day, and there was no one else. He didn't want to think about that, though, so he shoved it aside, the smell of cooked meat from the bag turning his brain onto one thought only.

Time to eat.

He avoided the full mirror on the wall: it was there when they moved in, afixed to the wall with glue or something, and couldn't be removed without damaging the wall. So his mom had left it, putting their dining room set to the left of it, making him have to pass it when ever he went to sit down. He couldn't look at it. He didn't want to see his reflection.

The burger was good, though, meat and cheese with Big Girl's secret sauce, all the veggies pulled out, like always. He hated lettuce.

Outside, the sun was fading, the house growing dark. The kitchen was a pool of shadows, and he shuddered, flicking on the overhead. The bulbs were harsh, and he did his math and history by them, leaving off the literature for tomorrow. He hated doing the work anyway, and he could make it before having to leave for class in the morning. He had a couple hours, so he'd be fine.

Finally done with the problems, he balled up the Big Girl bag, throwing it in the trash with the others, sighing. Every day was like this. It grew on you, after awhile.

He turned off the light, and went to bed.

...

Prompto sighed, drying off by holding his armpits to the half working dryer: that was a long time ago. He was always worried he'd fatten up again, and be useless to everyone. He had to keep skinny to keep strong, protect Noct. That was all that mattered.

"Hey, Prompto, you alright?" Ignis poked his head in. "You were taking so long."

"Just drying off!" He replied, brightly. "I'm coming."

"Don't take too long."

"Right."


	4. Chapter 4: Sleepless in Hammerhead

The sun was sinking behind the cliffs, loud calls echoing from the distance eerily, creatures rustling through the tall grasses beyond the haven's stone. The fire crackled merrily in the stone pit Ignis had dragged together, a hunk of meat from a beast in the fields roasting in the dutch oven, simmering in some olive oil and wild thyme, a new recipe he'd picked up somewhere in Hammerhead, before they'd left the rest area.

Prompto was clicking away on his cell by the fire, draped across a camp chair lazily, heatedly firing off duel offers to other players in King's Knight, fingers tapping powerfully on the touch screen, frowning in concentration. Gladio was trying to read, but yawning every other page, clearly about to crash at any moment, despite trying to complete the chapter. He was pursing popular fiction lately, but the book he was currently delving in to had no jacket, the spine unreadable. Ignis wondered why Gladio was so desperate to hide what book he was reading, when all the big guy read was war tactics and Chinese literature.

Ignis had been braising the meat for the second time when the cry came from across the campsite: the tent was thrashing, soft groans and louder cries coming from it, a bare foot peeking free as the person inside rolled about.

"N...Noct?" Prompto gasped, getting to his feet, cell dropping into the camp chair, forgotten. "Noct, you okay, bud?"

"What's got him riled?" Gladio laid his book in his lap, squinting at the tent. "Making a lot of noise in there. Should we check on him?" He half rose, like he was going to walk over and see what was up.

"No, I shall see to it," Ignis said, quickly, dashing across the plateau, a dropped bottle of oil slapping the dirt hard, gushing its contents messily. Ignis slid aside the tent flaps, and disappeared inside.

"...what was that?" Prompto asked, sinking into the chair with a sigh, leaping up as the protective case on his phone gave a protesting groan of plastic.

"Dunno...Iggy'll deal with it, yeah?" Gladio shrugged, eyes barely leaving his book.

"...yeah." Prompto still wasn't convinced. "...you think he's okay? Noct hasn't been sleeping much lately, y'know. He only sleeps during the day." His phone lay in his lap, forgotten, beeping a sad fanfare as his character died in battle, no player tapping to protect him from the monsters in-field.

"Lazy bum just sleeps in the car, so what? Everyone's sleep schedule is trashed by this." He turned a page. "I wouldn't worry about it. We can get him some sleeping pills next stop, if you're so concerned."

Prompto sighed, glancing at his phone. "Ahhh, I died! I lost all my armor!" He frantically tapped away, trying to fix the damage.

"Those mobile games'll kill ya," Gladio remarked.

Ignis held the dampened cloth to Noct's forehead, wiping away the sweat beading there, sighing. "These attacks... every night now."

He sat back, as Noct's lip curled, whimpers leaving him, barely formed words. Ignis bent to re dampen the cloth, when a single word stood out to him, Noct's eyes flicking rapidly in dreams: "...mother..."

Ignis stifled a chuckle at that: even though it seemed like Noct was calling him mother in sleep, that wasn't really the truth at all. Despite the fact he was caring for him, Noct wasn't on the same plain of reality right now. He was lost in the dreams that took him every night, back in the past. He'd never forgiven himself for the death of his mother, even though it wasn't his fault; No one asked for a monster attack during what was intended to be a simple walk, killing the guards in one fell swoop, and killing the queen before his eyes.

Ignis shook his head, sighing: the past was better forgotten, sometimes. During the day, Noct was as cheerful as one could be on a quest like this, easy going, ready to fight, and taking control when it was needed.

But, at night, Noct was taken by these terrible dreams, nightmares of that night, fleeting visions of the past he couldn't change, no matter how much he wanted to. It was a painful thing to witness, night after night, but there was little to be done about it now, out in the wild like this. All he could do was keep a lid on it. The others couldn't know.

He gently held Noct down, as he tried to sit up: unfortunately, on top of the nightmares, Noct would try to sleep walk, determined to protect his mother in the dream. Let to his own devices, he'd even attempt to find a weapon, staggering into the halls.

Ignis suddenly remembered there wasn't a hall for Noct to tread down anymore, awake or asleep. His brow furrowed, as he wiped Noct's face gently, the boy giving a sigh in sleep.

The boy... The Prince. Despite his real age, despite the fact there was little difference between them, Ignis would always consider Noctis a boy, a child who needed help.

That probably wasn't a good way to look at it, come to think of it. He sighed again, dipping the cloth in water, wringing it out.

Noct suddenly twisted, a foot kicking the water outside, the cloth flying. Ignis tried to hold him down, but a fist slammed into his stomach, his breath leaving him in a gasp.

Noct, eyes flicking rapidly behind his eyelids, flung a hand out, summoning his sword, going into a battle stance. He swung rapidly at nothing, hitting the air. The blade flashed as it swung, the firelight glinting on the steel.

"Noct, what the hell?" Gladio yelled, dodging a pass of the blade, Prompto dropping to his knees, hands over his head. "Whoa, buddy, not a good time for blade practice!"

Noct didn't reply, swinging the blade hard, slicing a camp chair down the middle, the pieces falling as Noct slammed through the campsite like a hurricane, breaking their camp table and grill. Sparks flew, catching the grass alight to either side of the tents, the flames burning merrily.

"Whoa, whoa, not good, not gooood!" Prompto yelled, running for the water bottles, dousing the flames as best he could, and stamping on the rest that wouldn't go out so easily.

"Noct, goddamn it!" Gladio stepped in front of Noctis, a hand gripping his wrist in an iron grip, twisted down. The bones protested, Noct's hand opening. The blade fell to the dirt, and vanished in a flash.

"No, stop it!" Ignis staggered to his feet, seeing this chaos. "He's not himself right now."

"Huh?" Prompto looked up, the flames out, most of the water dampening him rather than the grass. "He's what? He sick?!"

"...asleep," Gladio said, staring into Noct's face. "Idiot's asleep." He snapped his fingers in front of Noct's eyes, making him tilt his head like a dog, searching for the noise.

"Sleep walking..." Ignis said, softly, rubbing his nose. "...he does this after the nightmares."

Prompto gaped, still not getting it. "Uhm...can someone explain this to me?"

Ignis sighed again, taking Noct's arm. Noct flinched, and made a soft noise like a startled child. "Noctis... has dreams. Terrible ones. If not controlled, he sleepwalks, and can even sleep...er...fight." He didn't know how else to explain it.

"...that's all?" Gladio asked, sitting back down.

That...wasn't what Ignis had been expecting. He'd been thinking more along the lines of a freak out, yelling, and god knew what else. Gladio simply taking it like a normal, everyday fact, wasn't expected.

"Nightmares? You mean..uh..uh...what's the worrrrd..." Prompto dropped into his chair, sprawling across the arms.

"Night...uhh..."

"Night terrors," Ignis supplied. "Uncontrolled ones. From when..." He paused. "...from when the Queen...passed."

Gladio and Ignis both went pale at this, looking at anything but Noct; they never spoke about what had happened to the Queen, and Noct wasn't keen on supplying details after they'd taken the creature down.

"...just help me get him to bed... if he's held down, he'll be alright. The dreams only last a few hours." Ignis began leading Noct back to the tent, feeling exhaustion wash over him. This could take until morning, unless-

"A...anything we can do? Like...doesn't milk help?" Prompto offered.

"...warmed milk, yes. It would ease him into deeper sleep, and break the night terror for tonig...for this morning."

"On it," Gladio said, nodding to Prompto. "Get the grill going, Prompt. We've got some milk in the cooler."

Noctis took a few sips of the milk, swallowing slowly, lazily, his eyes slowing. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his limbs relaxing. His breathing became slower, calmer, and he was finally asleep proper.

"...at last," Ignis sighed, sitting back on his heels. He stifled yet another yawn, seeing the sun poke over the distant hills. Gladio and Prompto sat by the entrance, crossed legged in the dirt like children. Ignis had tried to get them to sleep, but they refused.

"Not leaving Noct," Gladio grunted. "This is something that can't be ignored."

"Yeah!" Prompto cut in. "If Noct's in trouble, than...than sleep is for the weak!"

With their help, Noct slept a few hours before sunrise. Ignis downed a near whole pot of coffee, and lied repeatedly to Gladio about needing some rest. When Noct woke, he had no clue of what had happened, and gladly helped make bacon and eggs for breakfast. Ignis smiled weakly at his greeting, saying nothing.

Gladio and Prompto kept silent about it, as well; the last thing they wanted was to embarrass him.

They had this, as long as they worked together.


	5. Chapter 5: I Want to Be Your Canary!

Gladio was engrossed in the book, already twenty chapters in to the story, despite some flaws: Currently, the cliched love story I Want To Be Your Canary was the top selling book in the whole tri-state, a cheesy display taking center stage in the Lestalm gas station, a billboard displaying the knight and princess to the highway from twenty feet up, in all their lurid glory, Gladio sucked along the story beats like thousands of others before him. Everyone had read, or was reading, it.

Despite this, Gladio didn't want to be seen with it; The book might've been popular, but it was still a romance at its core. Classic literature often played off the same ideals and plots, and the novel was a Romeo and Juliet story stripped of its charm, with a coating of cheesy dialog and action scenes, swordplay and ripped bodices. The whole thing was a glorious trash fire, and had millions hooked already, a popular radio station airing dramatized versions to rave reviews. Gladio both loved and hated it, every awful line making him wince, but the plot keeping him flicking pages despite himself.

"Another fighting book?" Prompto was craning his neck, trying to read over Gladio's shoulder. He snapped the book shut, glad he'd removed the cover after buying it. A light rub with a hank of steel wool wiped out the spine's title, and made it look like an old book he'd bought from a used store, like the hundreds of others' he'd read on battle tech and war moves.

"Yeah...samurai footwork," Gladio lied, folding his arms across his chest. "Like you'd read it; big, big words."

"H..hey! I read stuff!" Prompto grunted, cheeks reddening. "I'm not dumb..."

"Big difference between King's Knight Tech novels and classic lit, Prom," Gladio chuckled, feeling a bit guilty about the jab. Prompto had never been big on reading, even as a kid. The KKT novels had probably been the most the guy had read in years.

Ignis glanced at them in the rear view, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. Noctis did nothing but snore, mouth open in an unlovely yap, his gums pink in the sunlight. If the people could see the crown prince now, they'd completely rethink their opinions on the boy.

Boy... the man, as he'd be so quick to point out. Ignis often forgot, and Gladio did it on purpose to annoy him.

Prompto was offended, and buried himself into his cellphone, clicking away messages on chatrooms, and pounding out a new level on King's Knight, shooting sour looks at Gladio every now and then. He'd forget about it five minutes later, but for now it soured the air.

Noct grunted, and shifted in sleep, his face sliding onto Ignis' shoulder. His mouth closed, cheek rubbing the fabric of Ignis' blazer. Gladio stifled a snicker, knowing the rumors among teens at the rest stops would ignite seeing this: four young men on a road trip, alone, for hours and hours, sharing a tent, sleeping together... it made for saucy posts on forums, not that he'd have told any of the others. Prompto wouldn't understand, Ignis would've ignored it, and Noct... who knows how he'd react.

People were dumb. That's all there was to it, most of the time. Ignoreable.

...said the man hiding he reading preferences, he thought.

"We're coming up to a rest area...anyone need a rest?" Ignis asked, softly. One hand gently closed Noct's jaw, as it slid open again, drool staining his shirt. "Noct excluded, of course... seems he won't be awake this afternoon."

"He drugged?" Gladio teased. "What beat him down?"

Ignis sighed, shoulders tight: his grip straightened on the steering wheel, eyes on the road. "...he had another episode last night. Tried to strangle me. I took care of it."

He glanced at Noct as he spoke, making sure he was still sleeping. "...I might've gone overboard on the milk, so blame this on me."

Prompto glanced up from his phone, mouth open. "O..oh. So he's still...? Not any better?"

Another sigh, Ignis glancing at Noct's sleeping face again. "No. And I don't believe it will during the trip, if you ask me. I believe it might be worth changing the tent assignments from now one... Noct can't sleep alone any longer."

"No big deal. I won't miss him kicking me in the ribs," Gladio remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. "Prompto's gas attacks, however."

"H..hey!" Prompto cried, cheeks blazing.

The rest stop was far from pristine: grease streaked every surface, old tiles were rotting in the noon sun behind the bathrooms, and several lewd sayings were scribbled around...conveniently placed holes in the stall, among other graffiti and sayings along the walls. A dive, in the truest sense of the word, but the Regalia was low on gas, they were all ripe from sweat, and there wasn't any other stops for the next few miles. It was now or never.

"Dibs on the shower!" Prompto cried, running off to the men's, phone blaring a fanfare from a won battle in King's Knight, fist to the sky in a bro-fist. Ignis closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shower is a relatively broad term for the hose and wall set up in there."

Gladio chuckled, dropping into a once yellow bench, now a faded colour nicely described as "mustard". "Let him have his fun. He always did have a complex about showers."

"...not to be rude, but we both could use a wash. Neither of us smells like a rose right now." Ignis let a wry smile trace across his lips. "Noct however..."

Noct was still asleep in the car, draped over his seat, hair rumpled in a black halo around his head, dark circles under his eyes. He was turning his head like something was passing by him, and muttering. Right then, he looked very old, a day's stubble darkening his jaw.

"...we gotta, you know... look into something for him soon," Gladio said, keeping his voice low. Ignis' brow hardened into a line, his jaw set. "'Something'?"

"Well, it isn't... normal for a guy to sleep fight, walk around, try to strangle people..." he trailed off, seeing Ignis' jaw tighten until it looked like stone, arms crossed across his chest. A vein pulsed in the left one, red under his tanned skin, arching away at the wrist.

"...right." Gladio nodded, opening his book.

He was lost again in the story: Cornelia and Schneider were on the run in the forest, the king's soldiers hot on their heels, the sounds of hoof beats echoing through the trees, lantern light flickering across their faces as they ducked and hid in the brush along the past, their-

"Clean as a baby's bottom!"

Prompto, shirtless, skinny body damp, droplets catching the light in peach fuzz on his face and chest. He smiled broadly, clearly freshly washed, his trousers damp from him pulling them on after, without drying off. Which was typical for him.

Gladio snapped his book shut, annoyed. "Goddamn, Prompto, you think this is a peep show? Put some clothes on, there's kids."

"Jealous much?" Prompto snapped back, making a fist, flexing his arm. The resulting bulge was slight, and certainly not anything to rival Gladio.

"...hardly." Gladio stood, shaking his head. He stuffed his book in his pack, shouldering it. "Gonna sluice off... don't get pervy on me, huh?" He smirked, heading into the men's, as Prompto tossed a can in his general direction, red faced. It bounced harmlessly off the gravel, hitting the wall.

The room was small, stinking of old piss from guys' who couldn't aim, and rust from the exposed pipes along the wall. The "shower" was quite literally a pipe hosed through the wall, over in a corner where a drain kept it from flooding. Gladio sighed, dropping his pack onto a sink, eyeing the floor: bathing in a traditional way wasn't an option, since the floor probably had five or six thousand germs on it, and a few diseases unknown to man.

He pulled his vest off, and undid his pants, figuring that was enough. He sniffed, the smell heady, urine, staleness, and body odor. "Guys can be pigs..." He muttered, heading to the shower stall.

"...any particular gentleman acting like a swine?" Ignis, undoing his shirt buttons, his skin pale where the shirt covered. "Don't worry with the shower setup after all... Prompto's broken out in a sort of rash where the water was. I'd rather brave the sinks."

They both took simple sponge baths in the cloudy water of the sink, Gladio sighing as he washed off for the first time in... how long now? A week or two? He lost track of time easily out on the road, and days slid by in a blur of fights and driving.

"Not quite as fresh as a daisy, but it will suffice," Ignis muttered, putting on a clean shirt. Gladio chuckled, rubbing a cloth along his neck. "We'll find some stop up the road, and clean off properly."

"Uh, Noct's awake!" Prompto's voice called, something hitting the wall. Ignis looked concerned, and Gladio clenched a fist. "The hell?"

Someone shouted, a girl's voice, loud and shrill, insistent.

"Oh god..." Ignis rushed out, shirt flying open behind him, the door slamming.

Gladio came out into the sun, wincing at the sudden brightness: Noct was up, Ignis and Prompto both pulling his arms back, sword in the dirt, forgotten. A few teens were watching from the shadows of the shop, eyes glittering in the darkness.

Gladio walked over to them, and nodded briskly. "You all good?"

They nodded, a bit fearfully. The tallest, a red head with twin tails in yellow ribbons, sniffed. "Your friend is crazy, man! Crazy! Swung at us like a damn crazy mother-" She swore.

Mentally, Gladio slapped the girl a new one. In reality, he only clenched his teeth. "...he's got some issues. He walks in his sleep. We'll get him out of here, okay?"

The girl shook her head, defiant. "He outta be locked up!"

Gladios' jaw tightened, his teeth grinding. He stalked off, knowing it wasn't worth it.

Back in the parking lot, Noct was in the backseat of the Regalia, Ignis feeding him a small bit of milk from a bottle, and looking far too comfortable doing it. The "mother" image was loud and clear, and ripe for making fun of. But it wasn't worth it. Noct had some damage... it wasn't a laughing matter if he needed treatment now and then.

"...Gladio, you're reading Canary?!" Prompto cried, flicking through the book. Noct had kicked over Gladio's pack during his...attack, and the book had fallen out, into Prompto's hands.

Gladio's cheeks heated up, jaw clenching.


	6. Chapter 6: Dreams and Nightmares

It had been a long time since they'd last rested, the fights coming hard and fast along the plains and valleys. Ever since Noctis had found the relics, the weapons once used by the great kings of Lucis, it seemed monsters were zoning in on them with alarming regularity, with several dozen coming every hour.

So, by the time they found another resting spot, the old runes glowing a dull blue, crackling with disuse, he was exhausted from the nonstop warps, every muscle on fire. Sitting down made his knees pop audibly, Prompto wincing.

"Hey, bud, just take it easy this time... we've got the tent and everything," he said, even as he wiped sweat from his brow. It had been hard on everyone, the fights, but Noctis often did the most work, warping to deal a killing blow, or a higher spot to knock rocks onto creatures heads from above.

Small injuries dotted all of them, a cut marring Prompto's arm and along his side, Ignis nursing a twisted ankle from falling in the rock pits, even Gladio suffering sprains, aches, and a possibly broken left thumb from a fumbled hit to a large sand crab they'd battled by the water edge.

"I'm fine," Noctis insisted, thickly, fighting to keep his eyes open. The temptation to close them, to slump in his camp chair, or even to let his body merely collapse to the ground right there too hard to defeat anymore.

"Bud, come on... we all got beat down good. Just rest a little, we've got this." He offered a smile, but it seemed forced, more like a wince.

Noctis didn't reply, simply giving in this time; he could fight it all he wanted, but the others saw through him easily. If they said he needed rest, than he probably needed the rest. His eyes and body agreed, relaxing lazily into the stiff fabric. The sounds of the group unpacking the tents and camp gear faded into the background, the distant song of the ocean slapping the shore getting louder, to him. He focused on it, an old trick his mother had taught him a long time ago when sleep refused to take him into its hold at night.

Mother... gone for over ten years now. The memories of her were fuzzy in his mind, like seeing them through a cloudy window, or a melting sugar pane. Just bits and pieces, like the smell of her perfumes, the touch of her hand on his cheek, her smile when he was good, her frown whenever he happened to misbehave, which wasn't as often as you'd think.

The world faded around him.

"...tis?"

A soft voice, warm and kind, a voice he never thought he'd hear again, not in this life, anyway. Mother.

He blinked, the sunlight harsh, his vision fuzzy. He rubbed the sleep away, yawning loudly as he stretched, scratching his belly.

His mother laughed, the sound like bells. "You look like a kitten when you do that," she said, sitting besides him on the grass. His vision cleared, and he realized he was wearing black shorts and a bright coloured play shirt, like he used to when he was a small boy, his feet shoved into slip ons without socks. However, he was still his normal adult size, the clothes grown to fit. He didn't think of it then, but it was obvious he was dreaming simply based on this.

That, and his mother, clothed in a red skirt and light top, skin tanned and flawless in the sunlight, was smiling at him, sitting on grass bright enough to be neon. The air was shimmering, like with heat waves or water rippling on a lake surface. The sky was a brillant blue you only saw in storybooks. It was all too perfect.

"Uh, sorry," He said, his voice its normal pitch, rather than the high tone of a little boy he'd expected to hear. "I didn't mean to fall asleep..."

"It's not a bother... the day is so perfect, I hadn't noticed you were gone until you didn't answer me." She laughed, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear.

It was all too perfect, like a nicely scripted moment in a play, a particularly well shot movie moment. It didn't feel real, even as he lived it.

"Mama," he said softly, using the name he'd only used in private, a more polite "Mother" spoken in public, "I know you aren't... really here. I'm not here, either. This is just a dream... isn't it?"

She frowned, slightly, tilting her head. "I suppose... but does that matter right now? Can't you just enjoy this moment?"

"...mama..."

"Mama?" Gladio grunted, staring at Noctis quizzically. "What's up with that?"

"Noctis is dreaming of his mother again, I'd dare say... we'd best to keep a close eye on him," Ignis said, softly putting a blanket over Noctis, tucking him in like a mother hen. Prompto chuckled at this, taking a quick snap for later blackmail, if needed.

Ignis sighed, crossing his arms. "We need to keep an eye on him," he repeated, as Gladio hauled himself to his feet with a grunt, wincing. "Why? Just because he's dreaming of the queen? Why's that an issue?"

"Because Noct does his...you know..." Prompto waved a hand carelessly. "Any time he dreams of her, it happens. So we gotta keep him calm, you know?"

Gladio nodded, eyeing Noctis. "We need to figure this out at some point, ya know... we can't keep suffering his fits."

"Do not call them fits!" Ignis snapped, sternly. "He can't help it, and you know that very well. Do not be ignorant."

Prompto swallowed, and went back to unfolding the tent sections, cheeks red. Gladio nodded, looking annoyed, but saying nothing.

Noctis murmured, shoulders shifting. "...nice day..."

"I guess... it's a nice day," Noctis reluctantly agreed. He took a breath, looking at the distant rolling hills, the horizon seemingly endless. Despite this, the kingdom seemed to be gone, replaced by groups of perfect trees, small lakes, and endless green grass. It was the most lucid dream Noctis had ever experienced.

His mother suddenly had a rose, which she smelled with a sigh, the petals a rich red against her skin. Noctis didn't find this odd, accepting the dream world fairly quickly.

He slumped against the tree trunk with a sigh, closing his eyes briefly. He smelled smoke.

Ignis had finally gotten the camp stove going, a litter of busted matches laying in the dirt around him. Normally, he never messed up lighting the stove, but tonight his hands shook ever so slightly. Everyone was on edge, glancing at Noctis every other moment, as he murmured and shifted in sleep.

After a string of curses, Ignis finally presented dinner: lightly burned fished.

"...no comment on the cuisine, we're all a little on edge, in case you didn't notice," He said irritably. No one said anything, Gladio sniffing the fish he was offered; at least it was bass, burned or not. Bass always tasted good.

Prompto, for once, didn't take a dozen photographs of the dinner for the internet, picking at his burnt food listlessly, with no intention of eating much.

Ignis ignored them both, watching the sun set in the distance with a worried expression furrowing his brows. Noctis had been getting worse and worse nightmares, and the incident with the teenagers at the gas station hadn't left anyone's mind. Noctis would grow worse and worse unless he faced these dreams head on, but no one could help him with it. Only Noctis himself could face down his demons.

"Where do we go after this?" Prompto asked, lazily. He was clicking through his phone lazily, seeing update on various followers. Whenever he took a particularly good photograph out in the field or during a fight, he posted it for everyone to see on the official account for the group, jokingly called The Chobobros. Hundreds of people per hour followed their adventures through the world, along with hash tagged selfies by the dozen, which people liked a little less.

"Up the river...Noct scouted out an imperial base. Might as well destroy it while we got the time," Gladio replied, scraping grit off his fish. "Then we ride for the docks, as planned."

"Sounds good," Prompto said, listlessly. He flicked through new posts with a practiced hand, thumb moving a hundred miles an hour.

Ignis rubbed his temples, his untouched fish going cold on his plate.

"...night..." Noctis murmured, eyes flicking rapidly.

"...night's coming on soon," his mother said ,bored, watching the sun lower over the hills in the distance. As dreams often do, the landscape had changed around them, the tree in a low valley under high hills and green willow trees draping long ferns around them. The sky was dusky purple, like an old bruise healing. The orange ball of the sun lowered behind the top of the hills, the air cooling with a sudden drop of temperature.

"Wait..." Noctis blinked, sitting up suddenly. "Wait... night time... no..." He started to get to his feet, but a look from his mother stopped him; it was the same look she always gave when he'd been bad as a little boy, not exactly disapproving, as his mother didn't take with the concept of making children feel awful for their faults, but a mildly amused, mildly saddened look, one that said "Oh, honestly, my son, you can do so much better".

"There's nothing to be scared of," she said, softly. She held a flower, a red rose, and was gently picking it apart, playing "Loves me, loves me not" with the seemingly millions of petals the rose was composed of.

"But you..." Noct began, cutting himself off. His mother had died on a night ride, killed by a massive creature with several arms. Noctis had been knocked into the dirty grass by the road side, bleeding into the sand as his mother was torn to pieces. By the time his father and their men came, it was too late to save the queen.

Noctis had never really gotten over this, seeing and hearing his mother dying at the hands of a creature he couldn't face down. He'd spent years working his body and fighting skills to their max, biding his time to kill the creature in revenge.

Which he had, beheading the monster with the help of his brothers in arms, tearing its heart out with his bare hands after killing it with his sword, cutting the head free so savagely they were all four coated in blood. To be honest, he'd gone a little crazy with it, keeping the heart secretly as a token. Knowing it was dead, knowing he alone held its heart, so it never reformed...

"A rather ghastly thing to do, Noctis. Where do you keep it, anyway? In your sock?"

He didn't even question how his mother knew this: dream logic was taken over at this point. "I got a case for it in Lestallum..." He confessed. "...I just needed to know it was dead for good. Some of them can reform, you know, unless you utterly destroy the heart, and -"

"Dear, really... I get the idea," his mother said, softly, "you needed to know it was dead for good. That no one else would die at its hands."

The wind was kicking up, and Noctis shuddered, against his will, as leaves went skipping by on their ends, the scent of rain thick in the air. A storm was coming.

"...you need to face it, Noctis. " His mother's tone was more serious than he'd ever heard, not even when she explained his arranged marriage to him when he turned 14, not even the highly awkward "Talk" about what men and women did together on their wedding nights. Never once, even when explaining the finality of death when his too small Chocobo baby died when he was only 5.

Never as serious as in this moment.

"Face what... I...I don't understand, mama," he stammered, getting to his feet shakily. "We should go in, there's a-"

"Don't play dumb, Noctis. You and I both know this isn't real." Her tone was icy, final. She was standing near the cliff edge (was there a cliff before? He didn't know), the wind blowing her hair back wildly, ruffling her dress, white as new fallen snow. Had it been before?

"...Noctis, you can't keep living in the past." His mother's voice was different, softer spoken, accented differently, bookish and younger. "It won't help what you need to do. Your future is coming much sooner than you'd wish, I'm afraid."

His mother turned; but it wasn't his mother anymore, it was Luna, pale, sweet Luna, looking exactly like she did in the famous newspaper portrait, hair tied loosely, a frown marring her face. "You can't change what happened. Forgive yourself for it. Forgiver her for leaving."

"Luna..." He whispered, as a rumbling noise shook the valley, the cliff lit up with jagged lightning. Luna's hair broke free, whipping around her face in wet tangles. The storm broke then, rain making his gasp from the sudden cold, drenching him almost at once, hair clogging his vision.

"I can't," he tried, but he could. Even thought the shriveled heart from it was tucked into the wooden box he'd purchased specially from the curio shop, wrapped in thin paper and a black ribbon, the creature that had killed his mother was lumbering into view.

"I guess we should wrap him up," Prompto said, finally looking up from the glow of his screen. Night had fallen in full, a light chill taking the air. The wind was kicking up over the hills, and a distant animal screeched loudly.

"I've got -" Gladio began, but with a grunt, Noctis was on his feet, sword glittering into being in his grip. He took a stance, Prompto ducking, bracing for a swing.

"Wait, wait, don't jolt him, for gods' sake!" Ignis yelled, trying to keep the other two back, as Noctis began swinging at something only he could see, eyes flickering rapidly beneath their lids.

"...not gonna...Luna...LUNA!"

"Luna?" Ignis spluttered: this was something new to add to the nightmares, it seemed. "Gladio, do not!"

Gladio had been sneaking up behind Noctis, arms out to grab him. Noctis, however, even in sleep, had too sharp of hearing, and whirled, Gladio jumping back to avoid being skewered by the glowing blade.

"...ending this..." He murmured, giving a final step, leaping into the air with his blade aimed to the ground

The monster was in death throes, his blade stuck into its jugular. Blood spurted several feet into the air, Noctis wincing as the warm spatter hit his face, covering him. He left the sword buried in the thing, breathing hard. "...I did it..."

"Yes... for good, I would think," Luna said, behind him. "It shan't trouble you any longer, Noctis."

"Luna..."

He turned to her, but she was fading in the wind, a blue flower growing in her place. As his eyes opened, the nightmare finally leaving him, he realized it was a Sylleblossom.

They left the blade stuck into the dirt, getting Noctis a cup of coffee. He was visible shaken, but refused to talk about what had happened in his dreams, beyond "It's over now, for good."

The night ended, morning finding them all bleary eyed and dozing. They didn't ask anything else about it, as Noct cleaned off his blade before letting it vanish. The steel had become stained with rusty blue, somehow, the exact same shade as the blood most larger creatures bled when killed.

Noctis didn't say anything about finding a fresh Sylleblossom under the blade, growing along it so closely, a petal had been cleaved by the sharp edge. It made no sense, as they only grew in open fields, with lots of sun. Never on a rock like this. He took it as a sign, pressing it into a travel book left from a gas station trip. Dawn broke, making the flower seem to glow, with an inner light.

After that, Noctis slept peacefully, and did not dream.

The next travelers to use the camp discovered a small box, carved with a terrible beast. Inside, done in linen and a faded black silk ribbon, was a pile of ash that scattered on the wind.


	7. Chapter 7: Mirror, Mirror, Tell Me

Things had finally settled down somewhat for them, the weather cooling off as they went higher into the hills, the scenery changing from roving cliffs and acres of burning sand to green fields and lakes, the air carrying the tang of salt from the distant shoreline.

The top was down on the car almost all the time, even at night, the cool breeze sharp after the arid heat of other towns they'd traveled to; the gas stations, however, grew further apart the more distance they covered, and pit stops became a luxury rather than a fact of life on the road. The silences between conversations lengthened, since Prompto spent most of his time sleeping, Ignis had to concentrate on the road, and Gladio poured over several old volumes he'd picked up in Lestallum, learning new fighting techniques to add to his arsenal, so to speak.

For Noctis, sleep came easily for the first time in a very long time, deep , dreamless, comforting. No more nightmares, and no more incidents. No one said anything about it to his face, of course, but they all breathed a sigh of relief to not have to deal with sudden outbursts anymore. They were friends, brothers in arms, but even the closest bonds had a breaking point.

The rolling fields soon gave way to smaller farms and valleys, lakes dotting the landscape like reflecting mirrors, the stars and moon perfectly framed in the still water when the wind died down. A camping area was ahead, overlooking one of the lakes on the right side. Ignis had seen a travel guide at the last gas station that mentioned the locals referred to it as Looking Glass due to how still it was. Protected on three sides by the hills, the wind barely made so much as a ripple, making it a natural mirror to the sky, or anyone peering into its depths. It was a good place to rest after such a long journey.

Around sunset, they finally arrived at the site, Noctis yawning widely. Everyone was sore from driving for so long, and the surprise fight in the fields; The scorpions had just come out of nowhere, taking an hour apiece to kill, black blood spurting over everything. They were all tired, and the end of their long journey seemed even closer now than ever before.

Noctis helped as much as he could, but when the tent collapsed for the third time, it was declared to break out the sleeping bags, and give up. The night was nice, the moon was full over head, and that decided it.

Prompto had never really woken fully anyway, and crashed quickly. He'd been slammed hard during the fight, and even after a couple of potions he was still buzzed, voice thick. They let him be, Gladio gently pulling the blanket over him. It was so motherly, Noctis couldn't hold in a chuckle.

"Can it, peanut gallery," Gladio grunted, stalking to his chair. He dropped into it heavily, sighing. He closed his eyes, and tipped his head back to the moon.

"I'm gonna go take a look at the water," Noctis announced, getting to his feet. Ignis shot him a look from the stove top, where he'd been prepping a few quick meals for on the road. "Are you sure that's wise, Noct? We don't know this area."

"I'm not a baby, Ignis. I've got this," Noctis replied, unable to keep a slight edge out of his tone. After everything they'd been through, he knew the others would die for him, but he was sick of being treated like a child, talked down to. He didn't need ever move he made questioned.

He stalked off the camping site, the grass crunching under his boots. The night was as clear as day, the moon bright and huge in the sky. The lake was ahead, glimmering under the light. Noctis didn't know about the local nick name for the place, since Ignis had forgotten to mention it, but he still thought of how closely it resembled a mirror when he saw it.

There was a log by the bank, high enough to sit down comfortably, the top worn smooth by who knew how many years of posteriors. Obviously this was a popular spot, but no one was there tonight. Just him, and the blue reflection of the moon in the dappled water, a light breeze marring the surface. An owl called, out in the forest, and a twig snapped loudly.

Noctis jumped to his feet, katana in his hand before he could think, summoned on instinct; he aimed it to the tree line, grunting out a warning. "Show yourself! I'm armed!"

The bushes near him rustled, and a form pushed forward: Ignis, with a torchlight. He squinted at Noctis, jaw set. "Bit jumpy, aren't we?"

Noctis vanished his katana, sheepish. "I'm sorry... after this afternoon..."

Ignis held up a hand. "I understand Noct. Think nothing else of it."

He walked into the clearing, holding the light up, but here it was barely needed: The moon was bright, the sky cloudless. The lake reflected everything perfectly, and the view was breath taking. Ignis sighed, sitting next to Noctis on the log.

"...the locals call this place Looking Glass," he said, nodding to the still water. "They say it's magical, but..."

"I'd believe it," Noctis said, softly. "After everything we've seen... I'd believe it."

They were silent for several minutes, watching the water, which rippled gently from the breeze, making the moon dance a quiet jig under the stars. It smelled good out here, pine and sap filling the air. Noctis took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few moments.

"...Noctis, we need to talk."

Ignis's quiet voice made him open his eyes, blinking in the sudden darkness: The moon had slid behind a cloud, plunging Looking Glass into inky blackness. Ignis turned on his lantern, a moth buzzing around it.

"Talk about what?" Noctis crossed his arms. "About the trip?"

"About life," Ignis said, gently. He didn't meet Noctis's eyes as he spoke, hands clenched on his knees, his face bloodless. "There's a few things you need to know before marriage."

Noctis went bright scarlet, swallowing. "Uh..Ignis... no offense... but I'm a little old for The Talk. I... I get the...facts."

Ignis glanced at him, and chuckled, fixing his glasses. "Good lord, Noctis... what do you take me for? You learned about that kind of thing in science, there's no need to repeat it."

Noctis chuckled as well, breathing a sigh of relief. That wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with Ignis, no offense to him. But what else was there?

After a moment, both of them composing themselves, Ignis took a breath. "...I meant what your duties will be to Luna as her husband." Realizing how this sounded, he amended "...in life. Not... not the bedroom."

Noctis nodded, glad for the darkness then, as it hid his reddened cheeks. "Yeah?"

"Lunafreya will depend on you, to an extent. This marriage will last you as long as you both live. She will look to you, and you will look to her for guidance and aid. Do you understand?"

He nodded, not knowing what to say to this: it was obvious marriage meant being able to rely on your mate. It went without saying, didn't it? That was in your vows, after all.

"... the kingdom will look to you for guidance, and to Lunafreya for her gift. You will hold the kingdom's love in your hands." He paused, swallowing. "...I know all you think of right now is this trip, us on the road... but we will not matter anymore once we reach Altissa."

"Ignis..." Noctis began, but he held up a hand. He looked into Noctis' eyes, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I love you as a brother, Noctis. All four of us do. Don't throw everything away just for us. I don't want that. If it comes to it..."

Ignis paused, thinking over his next words carefully. "...if it comes to it, you leave us. You leave us, and do what needs to be done."

His vision wavered, and he blinked back the tears that threatened: Ignis was deadly serious. For the first time, what lay at the end of the road weighed on him, and Noctis barely kept it together. All this time, he'd only lived in the now, the fights, the roadside stops, the greasy fast food and Prompto's picture spots. The actual end of the road, the wedding, Altissa... Luna. They rarely crossed his mind, as awful as that was.

"...I just wanted you to know that, Noctis. I didn't want the others to hear it." He looked into Noctis's eyes, his jaw tight. His Adam's apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. "...we are dispensable. Do not take risks for our sake."

Noctis didn't want to agree, wanted to yell and scream, deny what Ignis was saying. But he couldn't. He knew it, deep inside. Things were going to be hard, soon, very hard: he didn't know how he knew this, but deep inside, the thought a great and terrible sacrifice was coming resided in his heart.

Ignis nodded, and got to his feet. As if it had left to avoid ease dropping, the moon slid back into its perch, and lit up Looking Glass again. Noctis watched Ignis's reflection walk away, the water rippling from a passing fish. He lost track of the time he sat there on that smooth log, the future, and everything that lay ahead flooding his mind.

He didn't want to think about it: What Ignis had said about leaving them, if it came to it, if it meant life or death...

Prompto... he'd know him since high school. Ever since they'd met that afternoon, Prompto had rarely left his side. Leaving him was...

Gladio, his sword. His loyalty was beyond undying. Watching him sacrifice himself...

Ignis... steadfast. A teacher and confidant, ever since Noctis was a teenager.

The idea of leaving them behind...

But it was what a king did. Despite everything, he was still the crowned king. He forgot, sometimes, when they were on the road, eating fries in red plastic booths at gas stations, sipping soda while Kenny Crow leered from posters on the walls, fighting random monsters for some extra gil-

He forgot, sometimes, that he was a king. A kingdom would depend on him for guidance, and for safety. He would never be able to just relax in the backseat again, some terrible indie rock song blaring from Prompto's latest CD, Gladio silent except for the flick of pages, Ignis guiding them to the next mission.

That would end forever. If he did see the others again, which wasn't set in stone, it would only be as simple greeting in the hall, or a short meeting between his duties. Possibly a fast lunch at the local coffee place once or twice a month.

The Brotherhood, as it was now, would end. He didn't know what he though of that. He did his best to ignore what made him uncomfortable.

He gazed into the water, and his reflection looked back, placidly: the moon slid behind a cloud again, but he could still see himself clearly. He gasped, seeing how his reflection changed: he was older, stubble gracing his face, his cheeks thin and lined, eyes hard. He sat on the throne of the kingdom, holding a sword. He looked until the moon came out again, his reflection back to his own now pale face. He let out the breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding, getting to his feet. For several minutes, he paced the lake shore, avoiding looking at the water again. The wind picked up, tossing leaves around his feet.

He finally headed back to the camp, everyone else asleep already. Among Prompto's soft snoring, and Gladio rustling in his sleeping bag, Noctis slid into the furthest set up, the one nearest the edge of the plateau. From there, he could see Looking Glass in the distance, and the cold reflection of the moon.

He watched the rippling water until sleep took him into its embrace. Ahead, the moon shone bright and clear.


	8. Chapter 8: On Silver Wings

The darkness filled his vision after he hit, and he was floating, weightless, the scent of the blue flowers growing wild on the hill in Tenebra filling his nostrils, cloying and thick. He gagged on it, coughing in the stillness, hearing it echo around him on and on. It could've echoed into eternity, for all he knew, but it did fade, eventually, as did the smell. The flowers were gone again, and he was grateful for it. He had once liked the smell of the midnight blue blossoms, but now...

They choked him like a fist, squeezing his neck until his breath caught from the scent. They used to smell like butter and cream, fresh laundry, cut flowers. Now, the scent was cloying, like spoiled sweet meats, offensive. He didn't know what had changed and perverted the scent in his mind like this.

Her voice echoed to him, as if far under water somewhere, deep in the recesses of the ocean, far from his grasp. He shivered violently, feeling that water cover him, caress him like a lost lover returned, his breathing getting dense, his lungs burning...

And then it passed, his breathing coming back to him in short burst, the cool breeze of open space washing over him, rustling his hair. His bangs were longer now, brushing his eyebrows, a style he hadn't worn since-

His legs felt chilly, and he felt they were partially bare, shorts, not his trousers, covering them. He hadn't worn shorts since he was small, considering them childish. His hand drifted, touching his upper thigh, feeling the smooth skin, warm to the touch. He wasn't a particularly hairy man, but his legs were only dusted with peach fuzz. Unless someone had taken a razor to him for some bizarre reason, it was obvious the suspicion lurking in the back of his mind was true: he wasn't the man he'd been before now, but a child, lost and alone in the fields of Tenebrae, the flowers suffocating scent filling the air like opened crypts. The air was growing colder, the sun ducking behind a cloud, the clearing darkening.

He glanced around, barely seeing anything through the low mist covering the ground, turning everything into the same shades of faded, washed out greys and deep blacks. The only colour was the sea of blossoms, stretching into the distance like an gently waving ocean.

That... and the colour of her hair, as it blew in the breeze, brushing over her shoulder. She was watching him with amused eyes, a sadness lurking there that hurt his heart, making him wince. Still, it was her... the woman all this had been for, in the beginning.

Lunafreya. Luna...

He reached out to her, but she shook her head, stepping back. She frowned, looking afraid, then worried. Something was bothering her.

"...Luna?" He asked, voice groggy. He wasn't used to sounding like a child again, and the high pitch startled him briefly.

She took a few steps forwards, as he got to his feet. He brushed dust from the flowers off his pants, trying to look presentable. Luna smiled, sadly. "So... you found your way here."

It wasn't a question.

"And you found me," he added, brightly. He smiled, hoping she would return it. She did, but the sadness stilted it, her smile one of pain and sorrow. He didn't understand why she wasn't happy to see him.

"A chance to see you again," she mused, touching her chin thoughtfully. "Who would have thought?"

Noctis frowned, picking at a loose thread in his jacket. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't you see me?"

She turned to him slowly, hands clasped in front of her, her expression one of extreme calm, showing nothing, as she'd been taught since birth. "Because my prayers have been answered...my calling full filled."

Calling? Noctis frowned. Like she used to talk about during their meetings? The star stuff?

"But... that doesn't have to come between us...right?" He said, slowly, trying to piece it all together in his mind, but it was that of a child again, the awarness of being a man gone. He felt stupid, like he was missing something, a bigger piece of the puzzle. Why couldn't he think properly?

Luna took his hand, and gently held it, bending slightly to meet his eyes. "You're the one, Noctis... the Stars shine for you now."

He liked feeling her hands on his, but he shoved that thought away, guiltily. Luna nodded, smiling, this time with a true warmth, missing before. "That which is yours by right shall be restored to you."

His by right? What did that mean. Noctis looked down, thinking hard, trying to remember...

It lingered at the back of his mind, nagging him, yelling to be heard, but he couldn't grasp it just then.

Luna started to walk away, and he turned, still a bit dazed.

"...do you remember... the flowers of Tenebrae?" She asked, softly. She sighed, shoulders hunching. "...it seems so long ago."

She smiled then, turning almost gaily, hands clasped behind her. "You'll find they await you still, blooming from hill to vale."

There was a peppiness to her voice he didn't like, watching her smile so sweetly at him. He swallowed, thickly. "...will you be there?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, his fear coming out then. His voice trembled on the last word, his cheeks heating up.

Luna took a breath, as is startled, and looked down, eyes closed briefly. Noctis felt terrible, thinking he'd offended her, and took a step forwards, hand out stretched uselessly. He let it drop by his side again, fist clenched.

The wind was picking up some, the flowers waving along the hill like water, their scent making him hold his breath. Clouds rolled across the sky, thunder rumbling distantly. Luna looked up with a sad, soft smile, and shook her head. "No...Noctis."

The wind was almost a gale now, whipping his hair in his eyes: he brushed it back, seeing Luna's dress wave like a sail, a white flag in a sea of blue. It draped across her thin legs, then billowed like a bell. It sailed outwards, growing longer, sheer and silken, and he closed his eyes in fear, a dull ache forming between his eyes.

The gale made it hard to stand, and he covered his eyes, peering out between clutching fingers at Luna, but she was no longer the little girl he knew: a woman, hair loose about her shoulders, pale as moonlight, watched him calmly, hands clasped, as if in prayer. Another gust forced his eyes shut, watering, and he stepped back, coughing: the pollen from the flowers was taking to flight on the wind, covering the hills like a low lying fog. They no longer smelled of rotting meat, but of water and salt.

They smelled of tears, the same ones rolling down his cheeks.

"...would that I could join you," Luna whispered, her voice echoing in the fog, its tone sad... but final. She sounded so determined...

He lowered his arm, blinking back tears as the woman stepped forwards, hands out to him, offering, pleading? He didn't know. All he knew was sudden pain in his chest, making him wince. It felt like someone was tearing his heart free of its cradle behund his ribs with their bare hands.

"...but this moment," she whispered, a single, crystal tear falling across her cheek, catching the light as it traveled to her chin, winking like a fallen star, "will have to be enough."

"W...what?" He didn't understand, didn't want to understand. This woman, this adult Luna... all he cared about was seeing her, keeping her safe. He stepped back, not noticing his boot splashing into a puddle, the flowers behind him gone in a wall of water, slowly devouring the fields. "It's not right," he said, voice breaking. He made a fist, swallowing back more tears, as his father had once taught him. A man didn't show emotion: a king was stone.

A king was stone

The dam broke; he sobbed like a lost child, fists clenched at his sides. "It's not right...it's not!" He shouted, the wind all but tearing the words from his throat. Luna, dress not even rustling in the gale, watched peacefully, not breaking eye contact with him.

"...all I...all I wanted was to save you, I..." He stammered, falling to his knees, water splashing his shorts, soaking them. Luna kneeled besides him, touching his cheek with one slender hand, briefly wiping away his tears.

The water filled the clearing, light shafting from above in blue lines, but he could breath it as easily as air, swallowing back the choking sobs escaping his lungs.

Luna's hand fell to her side, gently picking the final blossom on the water bed. She smelled it for a moment, a sad smile crossing her lips, before holding it out to Noctis, offering it to him.

"When the world falls down around you, and hope is lost," she began, as petals swirled around her, lifting the edges of her gown like a goddess, a beam of light from above making her hair shine like a star. Stars, always stars, all he could think of to compare her to was stars.

Her hand touched his cheek, the petals brushing him gently. "...when you find yourself alone, amid a lightless place..."

She looked up, smiling angelically, the petals of the final flower blowing away from her, as the water darkened behind, tendrils plucking at her hair questioningly.

"...look into the distance... know that I am there," she went on, smiling, neither sad nor joyous: it was accepting, final.

Noctis looked up, his mind clearing bit by bit, the fog lifting. "Luna...?" He reached for her.

"...and know that I watch over you always," she finished.

"No..." Everything. Everything was back. The fight, the power...Luna-

She let go of the remains of the flower, letting it float free towards his outstretched hand. The tendrils were gently pulling her now, her feet off the sandy bottom of the water. Her arms went wide, as she floated into their embrace.

"Farewell...dear Noctis," she whispered, the deepest, darkest sadness anyone had ever suffered in her eyes, a tear frozen on her cheek. As the tendrils of darkness pulled her into their grasp, she met his eyes, and hope flared, bright and brillant like a setting sun. She closed her eyes, the darkness covering her.

"...no...NO!" He struggled forwards now, the current pulling him up, away from her, a pale hand still outstretched. He was dimly aware he was a man again, but did not care in that moment, so great was his grief.

"LUNA!" He screamed, his throat raw.

The remains of the flower floated before him, the petals curling, shaping themselves. The ring...

She'd had it all along.

He grasped it, holding it to his chest, as the waters parted to allow him exit, the sun blinding. Below, only a dark mass, fading like morning fog.

"Luna..."

She was gone. She was gone forever, like a star gone out.

The ring burned him, as the sun grew brighter, brighter, blinding him with its glare.

know that I watch over you always

His eyes closed, and he was falling into a deep darkness. Images flashed by, flickering like candles: Looking Glass, Prompto, that stupid book of Gladios', Ignis making a new soup at their camp grill. Everything, every place they'd been, everything they'd seen. It all passed him by as he fell, the ring, now red hot, clutched in his hand, searing a scar deep into the flesh.

It looked like a heart, with the faintest of cracks along it.

He knew no more.

When his eyes opened, the light was dimmer, the stale smell of sweat and bodies in his nose. He was in a plush comforter, but the rougher sort he knew only to well. A hotel.

He sat up, slowly, his head rolling; he felt like he'd come off a week at sea.

"Awake, are we?" A voice asked, someone getting to their feet from a armchair across the room: Ignis. He walked with a cane, a nasty, blackened scar crossing his eye.

"Y..you're hurt!" Noctis exclaimed, but Ignis shook it off. "A small sacrifice in the greater battle," he said, letting out a strained chuckle.

He looked down, wondering what had been real; he couldn't remember it now, bits and pieces floating away, like debris on water. Flowers... a field... he was a child... L-

"And... Luna?" He asked, softly.

Ignis turned away, inhaling sharply. It was obvious he'd been hoping Noctis wouldn't ask.

Several moments went by before Ignis spoke, and it was a blunt, no nonsense tone: "...she has passed."

He opened the door to the hall, glancing back only once. "...I am sorry...my king."

My king.

Noctis opened his palm: there, amid scarred tissue, was the ring. The ring Luna died giving to him. His breath shook, as he felt a pain in his chest.

Luna was gone. Gone forever. All for him.

"...Umbra left that for you," Ignis said, making Noctis start: he hadn't realized Ignis had lingered in the doorway.

Noctis murmured something akin to "Thanks," closing his eyes. With a nod, Ignis left him, closing the door gently.

With a shaking hand, Noctis pulled the tattered notebook to him, flicking the worn cover open; a pressed blue blossom, the one from the field, the one from Luna...

His breath shuddered, tears dotting the pages. A single petal fell from the flower, staining the yellow paper.

His fist clenched on the ring, the dull ache of pain in his hand feeding his sorrow, Noctis pulled his knees to his chest, and sobbed until he felt like he was going to break.

Outside, in the street, the faintest scent of salt water lingered, fading away on the breeze.


	9. Chapter 9 - A Yule Tide Prequel

Years ago, Noctis loved the Yule. When he woke the first week of December, when the snow usually began to fall, he'd run downstairs to his mother, and immediately begin planning what decorations were going where, what meal would be made, and what tree to use in the dining room.

His father had never been as into it as them; he wasn't quite a Scrooge, but he never bothered to join in decorating, or the carols and such they did over the weeks leading up to Yule Night.

The only time he ever seemed excited about the season was on Yule Morning, when he joined Noctis and his wife on the trip to the orphanage, where they left several warm geese for their dinner, and presents for all the children. Then, he dressed up as a Yule Lad, and put on a bit of a show for the children.

When the queen died, Yule that year was completely covered with black, as the kingdom mourned. No tree, a simple dinner, and black suits for Noctis and Regis, amid black hangings and a portrait of the queen lined in black silk.

As Noctis grew older, his father stopped even putting out decorations, and Yule merely became a week of snow and annoyance, as the yearly visit to the orphans only became a short appearance, thrusting the food at the orphanage owner, and leaving. The orphans now weren't there when the queen was alive, so they were used to this, but there were some, now grown, who thought Regis had grown hard hearted.

What ever the case, Noctis grew, and, by high school, was completely over this Yule thing.

"Noct, Noct, wait up!"

Prompto's call made several heads turn, as he waded through the after school crowd in the hall. A lot of people knew Noctis, but none knew him as Noct except for Prompto. Even Ignis called him Noctis, on principle.

Noctis was at his locker, trying to tidy the mess of books and homework papers before the Yule week break, and failing spectacularly. It all piled up so badly, no matter what he did.

"Noct, buddy, I was calling you for, like, ever." Prompto frowned, showing his call log on his cellphone: nine calls to Noctis, and one text.

Noctis brushed his bangs back for about the twentieth time, and glanced at the screen. "Yeah, so? I told you, I had class with Ignis today."

"Bud, you...ugh," Prompto groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I was trying to get a hold of you to let you know Rosella was looking for you."

Noctis tilted his head, thinking about this for a minute: The name wasn't ringing a bell for him. He brushed his bangs back again, annoyed about it now; he needed a damn haircut.

"Not...getting a picture there...who's Rosella?" He asked, as Prompto rolled his eyes.

"Only the hottest girl in school, Noct, seriously... how can you not know?" Prompto's tone was one of utter disbelief, as if this were some common knowledge Noctis should know by heart.

Noctis slammed his locker, giving up or organizing. He'd just put it off until January, like he did every year, and just enjoy his break for now. He stuffed everything into his bag before answering. "Okay, and? What did she want?"

Prompto put a hand on Noctis' shoulder, shaking his head like Noctis was a lost cause. "...to ask you out, bro. The Yule Dance? Dude, you could so get - "

Prompto cut himself off suddenly, eyes shifting to the side: A case of foot in mouth. It was well known Noctis was saved for the Princess, and wasn't allowed to sleep with anyone of either gender. It was tough on a growing teenage boy, but Noctis didn't seem to mind it as much as everyone else did, and students of both genders lusted after him fruitlessly.

"She...uh...well...you know...she's still a nice girl," Prompto stammered, trying to save face.

Noctis grinned, hefting his school bag. "Y'know, Prompto... she wouldn't sleep with you, either. She's not as loose as everyone says."

"I..I sleep with plenty of girls!" Prompto said, a bit too hurriedly. Noctis only shook his head. "Like it matters... it's fluids being shot from body to body."

"When you put it like that, it makes us sound... positively primeval," A somewhat proper and prim voice said. The hall was emptying, students leaving for various after school activities. Ignis shoved his glasses up his nose again for the fourth time that day, watching them. "You both do know Noctis isn't allowed to have inter-"

"Ignis, oh my god, enough!" Noctis declared, hands up. "Can we not talk about this ever? Please?"

"...I sleep with plenty of girls," Prompto muttered under his breath.

Ignis smirked, and shook his head. "I doubt that, Prompto..."

Prompto opened his mouth like he was going to argue, cheeks pink, but he closed it again, looking down, defeated.

"Okay, I'm done with this conversation," Noctis said, throwing his hands up in defeated submission. "Bye."

As he walked off, Prompto sniffed, looking down. "...I got kissed by a lot of girls...at least...well...one..."

"Virginity is a virtue," Ignis said, simply, a smirk lifting his lips. "As is knowing when to keep things to one's self."

Noctis didn't go straight home like he was supposed to; he lingered around the campus, walking aimlessly. He ended up at the field, and sat for awhile, watching the runners circle the green. A golden statue rose from a small fountain, a shapeless, shiny orb that supposedly represented harmony among the world's people. It had been intended as a symbol of good will, but people took it as a joke, with the way the times were going.

A few Yule lights were scattered about the building, but they were a muted selection of red and green, so as not to offend those who didn't celebrate the holidays. A Yule tree, however, dominated the gym windows, coated in tinsel and shiny ornaments, so the effect was more than lost.

Noctis sighed, leaning forward on the bench, rubbing his temples. A headache hovered on the fringe, making his vision waver.

"Yo, Noct!" A voice called.

He looked up, wincing at the loud noise, but couldn't keep a smile off his face when he saw who it was: Gladio was the buffest boy on the track team, and the school rules defying tattoo on his left bicep gleamed in the sunlight. It held some deeper meaning he didn't like to talk about, which Noctis respected. Everyone had secrets.

Brushing sweaty black hair out of his eyes, Gladio chuckled at him, hands on his hips. Looking at him, Noctis thought, you didn't need to think if he'd kissed any girls...or done other things with them. They pretty much threw themselves at Gladio's feet.

"What's up, prince? You look like something the cat puked up." Gladio sat down next to him on the bench, emitting the smell of sweat and body powder. He scratched his chest, watching his team mates run along the track. "Somethin' bothering you?"

"Just..." Noctis started, then paused. Just what? Prompto's teasing? The time of year? His memories? The lack of his mother making things even worse?

"...just life," he finally finished, a bit lamely. "This time of year always gets me down."

"Why? Yule is a big deal around here. Girls' by the bunches, class gets out early, people give you stuff for free... what's not to like?"

Noctis swallowed a bit on the girl part, still a bit embarrassed from earlier. "My...mother used to love this time of year...and it's just...I just..." He trailed off with a shrug. He'd run out of words. "Yeah."

Gladio nodded slowly, clearly trying not to make Noctis feel more embarrassed. "I...uh..getcha, bro."

"I just meant... this time of year makes me think of her...and it...gets to me," Noctis confessed, softly. "I can't get all...jolly."

"Jolly?!" Gladio repeated, chuckling. "Bro, no one's really jolly or holly or whatever. They just want crap for Yule. It's a big ol' play act, y'know?"

"Yeah..." Noctis agreed, gloomily.

Distantly, thunder rolled, threatening a late Winter storm.

Finally, the school day ended, and Noctis started the walk home. It had started to rain during his last class (Advanced Japanese Literature), and now it had turned to icy cold drops hitting his umbrella. It was miserable weather, and it matched his mood. His backpack was heavy, nearly outweighing his thoughts, but not quite.

Trudging home, he noticed more and more signs of the economy going far to the wrong side in town: smaller shops were closed up, windows boarded up. Larger chain stores seemed to be doing alright with the influx of Christmas sales, but the Mom and Pop places were done for, windows boarded up. Money wasn't what it used to be, and it showed.

He tried not to think about it, but, as future ruler of Eos, he had to.

Just another thing to add to the load on his shoulders.

He kept his head down as he walked, doing his best to ignore the bright lights flickering in the windows of the homes and business, trying to block out the jolly carol playing on a passing car radio. Everything about Yule was just...

"Noct, hey, buddy!"

He turned at the voice; Prompto again, which wasn't too surprising. That boy stuck to Noctis like glue, and wasn't so good at taking a hint. He was alright enough, maybe a bit naive, but a good guy in the end. His blonde hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes were soaked. It was seriously coming down now. Noctis offered his umbrella with a nod, and Prompto squeezed in under it. "Thanks," he grunted, shaking his hair.

"Hey, what are you, a dog?" Noctis grunted, chuckling a little, hand up to keep his books dry. "What's up? Why'd you chase me down?"

"I just wanted to apologize, okay? For the thing earlier..." He stammered, cheeks tinted pink. "So...yeah...sorry, Noct."

That was it? That was all Prompto was worried about? A stupid sex joke? Wow. It was nice to come apologize for it, but it really wasn't a big deal. That was just Prompto's way, Noctis guessed.

"It's...it's okay, Prompto, really. Nothing to get worked up over."

"I just...I didn't think..." Prompto stammered, cheeks getting redder.

Noctis sighed, rolling his eyes. "Okay...then let's start over with this. I can't have sex by royal decree, so what girl is or isn't 'putting out' doesn't matter to me a bit. That settle it?"

He didn't mean for his tone to have such a sharp edge, but his words bit like a katana. Prompto winced, but nodded. "Yeah...the..uh..Lunafreya thing..."

He smiled, then, trying to make light of it. "Hey, look on the bright side... it's gonna be great when you two you know..." He waved a hand vaguely.

"Do it?" Noctis asked, in a monotone.

"Well..uh...y..yeah," Prompto stammered.

"Off topic, what about you and all those girls, eh?" Noctis teased, as Prompto went scarlet. He wiped at his lips, and looked down at the sidewalk, suddenly fascinated by the leaves running by in the gutter run off.

"Yeah..." Noctis said,noncommittally. "So can we...not talk about my future sex life, please? Or yours? It's kinda a private thing..."

"Yeah, sorry...uh..." Prompto wiped his lips again, making them go pink, clearly embarrassed again. He was a bit jumpy, Noctis thought, but it was kind of endearing. It gave him a fun edge, being constantly jittery and embarrassed, even when he made off colour jokes.

Noctis rather liked Prompto.

That night, Noctis ate dinner alone in the lesser dining room, his father busy with...something. No one ever told him, so he just assumed it was working on the failing economy. Well...he liked to think it was, but he didn't really know.

Not knowing what was going on in his own kingdom was pathetic.

"I'm not very hungry," he told the chef, after picking at the meat for a few minutes, to make it look like he'd actually eaten some of it. His belly was aching, right in the middle, and a sour taste was in his throat.

He went to his room, dropping on his bed without even undressing, or turning on any lights. The rain pounded the window glass, lulling him in the darkness of the room. His eyes closed, and, soon, he was asleep.

He dreamed of his mother... and a monster... blood on his hands, her screams in his ears. He woke, hours later on Yule morning, in the middle of the floor, curled up like a baby. He'd torn his shirt, and his knuckles were bruised, as if he'd been hitting something. He went to the window and flung it open, taking a deep breath of fresh air, tinged with the scent of fires, and the chill of a cold day.

Bells rang outside, as people bustled to gatherings all across the city, some singing carols. School was cancelled, and everyone was joyfully using their day to exchange gifts, and eat way too much meat.

Inside the royal palace, it was merely business as usual, as Noctis dressed, and went to breakfast. He ate alone, in the chilly dining room.

That afternoon, he returned to his room, finding the bed made, and a small, simply wrapped box sitting on the pillow. There was no note, but, somehow, he knew who it was from.

Inside, a simple chain, silver, tinged with blue. A note, scrawled on a scrape of parchment, simply said "This belonged to your mother. She would have wanted you to have it".

It wasn't much. But it was enough, just then.


	10. Chapter 10: Side Story - Kyoto Breeze

The long Winter had finally ended, and the Spring thaw was freeing the cherry blossoms from their white bed, red and pink showing through as the sun rose high in the sky. It got hot quickly, the sun already blazing at 8 am, the birds twittering in the branches of the West garden. Noctis took in a breath of the morning air, bringing it in through his nose, and exhaling, as he'd been taught. He felt calm, limbs loose and ready for movement, fighting, or anything else.

He took a step, going into a stance without even thinking, hands clasped, the right over a closed fist, the common gesture of goodwill. He shifted his body weight downwards, until his hands touched his knee, stretching out his back muscles. It felt good, after the long Winter had kept them all inside, the only exercise what little practice could be done in the main hall, or their own rooms. The palace was big, the biggest in the lands owned by the royals, but it was stifling compared to free reign outside in the foothills and plains.

He sighed, pulling the sash on his kimono tighter, frowning as he looked at the melting snow, trickles of it pattering from the trees into the fish pond, making ripples in the water, scaring the fish. The snows had kept everyone inside, but now that the Spring was thawing out the frozen world, his duties would begin anew, without a break. Including the planned trip to Edo, to the training camp there.

Noctis didn't want to go; Gladio had insisted on it, saying the disciplines the monks had to teach would benefit Noctis greatly, indeed, benefit them all in the long run. Proper training in the ways of the sword was expected in a king, and Noctis was no exception to that, even if he was still just the crown prince. Training began on his thirteenth birthday, and had never stopped, and wouldn't until the day the crown was lowered onto his skull during the coronation.

He walked along the cobbled path towards the Moon Blossom courtyard, the largest garden in the palace grounds. It was called the Moon Blossom for the large blue flowers that grew profusely through the lawn, most those that only bloomed in the moonlight, the temple at the back built in the honor of the moon and ice goddes, Shiva. With the long Winter, it had been severely neglected, small vines wrapping around the face of the goddess statue, the candles frozen into useless hunks on the stone trench, the wicks snapped off.

Noctis pulled the vines free of the stone, the wet sap gluing his fingers together, the smell sour; the Goddess deserved more respect than that. The garden shouldn't have been left to ruins like this.

"Noctis!" A voice rang out, the door to the dining hall slamming close, bouncing off the door frame to fly back open. An annoyed hand pulled it closed again, as the source of the voice, Prompto Argentum, raced along the cobblestones, kimono flying open behind him to show his skinny chest. Noctis rolled his eyes, and feigned having not heard him, settling on a bench, eyes closed as if he were meditating. Prompto, of course, ignored this, clattering into the gardens like a madman. "Noct! Didn't you hear me?" He bellowed, scattering small birds who'd been nesting in the trees, wings flapping in fear as they fled the sudden noise.

Noctis finally opened his eyes, staring at Prompto: the smaller man had, again, forgotten his swords, and his kimono was open to the waist, like some common street urchin. The open clothes was nothing new, but forgetting his swords was a new sort of low, even for him.

"Prompto, you're asking for a telling off like that. Dishonor in the man who forgets his father's face, his blades of steel, and his iron will," Noctis quoted, the mantra drilled into his head by Ignis, a common saying most of the ancient samurai's had held to. Prompto scratched his head, blinking at his bare hip. "Oh, yeah... uh... I think they're still in my room...?"

"You're asking me?" Noctis grunted, getting up. "What did you want, anyway? I was praying," He lied. It was probably some form of blasphemy to the gods, but he didn't have the heart to say he simply needed time alone from the others. The hall got noisy in the mornings, servants bustling in the massive meal,Ignis guiding him in the art of formal dining, Prompto making rude jokes, his father watching it all from the front of the room on his throne .

His father... King Regis. Strong, even though his protecting of the sacred crystal drained him so much...

Noctis wasn't even sure he'd seen the man out of his golden robes and scabbards, greying hair pulled back with a strip of silk. The silk was the hem from the queen's wedding gown, but few people knew this. Noctis wondered if his father was secretly afraid he'd be found womanly to wear silk like this, as it blatantly defied the rules of the samurai.

Or did it matter? The old ways were dying out... a lot of the rules went lax as time went on, and many were bent to what worked best. Following the spirit of the rule if not the full letter of it was quite common in Insomnia. Even the crown city let the old laws pass for the new generation, when they became too archaic to bother with anymore.

"We've gotta go to the chapel! Right now!" Prompto cried, cheeks red with excitement, waving his hands in the air like newly released doves. "We've got this big, big thing! Massive! Amazing!"

"Best quit before you run out of adverbs, Prompto," Noctis quipped, getting to his feet, brushing off the front of his robe. "It's probably surprise kitchen detail, or some fancy dinner. I wouldn't get excited over it." He folded his arms, looking Prompto over. "You've really gotta start dressing properly, y'know... it's not going to go over well at the monk's camp, with all their rules."

"But that's just it!" Prompto cried. "Just come on!" He tugged Noctis' sleeve, pulling him along.

"Why?" Noctis snapped, irritated. "What is so damn-"

"You're gonna get married early! It's, like...Ugh!" Prompto waved his hand vaguely.

Noctis didn't have any reply to this.

"Father..." Noctis said, softly, kneeling as was custom, head down, gaze to the palace floor. He kept his head bowed, until his father nodded, making a soft grunting noise. "Rise, Noctis."

Noctis sat back on his legs, keeping them folded under him, arms at his sides, the position long taught to him as proper when faced with someone above you in station. Even his own father didn't get a pass in this. Noctis would never be allowed to sit on a seat like the court members until the day he took the throne.

"...I assume Prompto let you know of the news?" Regis asked, sipping deeply from his goblet, the gold designs etched onto it catching the light. "That one will never make a good husband, acting so rashly."

Noctis swallowed a laugh at that, knowing the only one Prompto desired was beyond him. Cindy, the American girl who worked the way station in Hammerhead, a hard worker to her core. She always said her work was the only man in her life. Despite her revealing kimono's and loose hair, in full defiance of fashion and proper attire, Cindy never once gave Prompto more than common politeness, despite the man's shameful flirting. She was as likely to budge on the matter as a boulder, but no one had the heart to crush Prompto's dreams.

"Possibly, father. But he's not the point right now, is he?" Noctis said, softly. From Regis' face, that frown deepening the lines around his mouth, Noctis had a bad feeling about the news to come. He knew it was about his marriage to Lady Luna, the Oracle, as part of a long ago made peace treaty. He'd only met her a few times as a child, and barely knew her. He didn't know how he felt about her, as their time together had been so long ago, it was nearly faded from his memories. But it wasn't to occur for several more months, long after his training was over with.

"No...he isn't," Regis agreed, setting his drink down, and sitting upright on his throne. One hand worried with the silken strip, a sign he was stressed, but trying to hide it, as was proper of a king. One hid their emotions in public, so as not to seem womanly. "Your marriage is, my son. It's been moved from the planned date."

Moved? Nothing as important as a wedding date was ever moved in Insomnia's calander. What was going on?

"Yes, I understand, father. But..." He paused, taking a breath. "Might I ask why? It's odd to move it now, when my training isn't done yet."

The king nodded, sighing. "Certain... unforeseeable events have forced my hand, despite my wishes. You are to go to Altissia, and meet Lady Luna there. The wedding will be conducted when time permits, at the palace."

This was all moving far faster than Noctis ever could have imagined: his mind ached. "...I understand, father. Am I to travel alone?"

"'course not," A voice drawled. Gladiolus, Noctis' old friend, and current teacher in the way of Bushido. As per usual, his kimono was undone in front, showing the elaborate dragon etched across his skin, scars dotting his chest. The ink had never faded from when it was first applied, marking him as Noctis' future guard. Next to him, Ignis nodded, pushing his spectacles up his thin nose yet again. Still a newer design, they didn't fit on his ears as they were supposed to, and slipped down often.

"Together, you four are to travel to Altissa, with my blessing. You will take the royal carriage," Regis intoned. The carriage was fast, built light but sturdy, five jet black horses allowing it to all but fly across field and town. Only the king used it. Noctis had never set foot into it.

"Wow... the royal carriage?" Prompto murmured, shocked. "I can't even..."

Noctis stood, bowing low to his father. "I will not fail you, sire," He said, mind still racing. When he woke that morning, this was the last thing he could have possibly imagined happening that afternoon.

Regis smiled, but it was tight, almost pained. Neither of them noticed it, as they talked amongst themselves, excited and worried over the trip.

None of them could've known this was to change their lives forever. Not all of them would return to Insomnia, and the land would be rocked by battles unimagined.

But, for now, as Noctis left the palace for his rooms to pack his few simple belongings, there was the sun in the cherry trees, the trill of the birds, and the excitement and fear of a cross country journey to meet his bride.

The petals fell into the pond, making ripples. They looked for all the world like blood drops, as they sank into the water, breaking apart in small trails.


	11. Chapter 11: Side Story- Steam and Shield

It was a good year, with the smell of progress lingering in the air, making everyone feel lighter in their hearts. The city had grown over the years, and the kingdom had certainly felt it: the castle had been small once it began, but over the years towers and additions grew almost like flowers, blossoming over the stone until the kingdom's flag flew high above everything else, visible from miles away on the West tower's top spire. Even then, the progress kept on, with outbuildings and spires peeking free of the walls as the years went on. With the new steam power currently sweeping the land, building could go long into the night, with few workers. Yes, it was a good year, and the scent of progress filled everyone's lungs with cheer.

Noctis, the crown prince of the kingdom, had had enough of the progress, as the sound of hammering went long into the night, and kept many awake as builders stamped along scaffolding wrapped around the exterior of the castle like spiderwebs, knocking in new stones and glass to empty window frames. Noctis didn't care about progress anymore, all he wanted was some sleep, and less headaches.

That morning at breakfast, Noctis dozed over his eggs, as Ignis recited his daily schedule in a drone, Prompto scarfing down bacon like it was going out of style, grease staining his chin. Gladio hadn't arrived yet, as the Guard was expected to walk the perimeter of the castle every morning, making positive there were no holes in the walls, or suspicious people wandering about. At this point, it was more the tradition of the thing than pure safety measures, but it was required daily by orders of the king, along with routine checks of the steam release valves, and oil tanks in the courtyard.

"...and thus, Noctis was slapped across the scalp for sleeping in his breakfast," Ignis said, sharply, pushing his glasses up his thin nose. His frown nearly made the monocle in his right eye fall into his potatoes. His vision was alright enough without it, good enough to read or do menial tasks, but at this point it was for the look of the thing, as it was the height of current fashion. He took in a breath, as Noct snorted, sitting up quickly, a sliver of bacon sticking to his chin. "I'm awake, I'm awake," he protested, hurriedly.

Prompto reached across the table to pull the bacon off, upsetting the milk jug into the platter of eggs. The milk sopped the table cloth, and spread across the place settings, the ruined eggs swimming on the plate. Ignis sighed, and snapped the daily schedule shut. "...this is going splendidly."

"I'm sorry-" Prompto began, but the hall door banged open, a whiff of sweat and oil wafting in from outside, steam clouding the courtyard from a passing delivery cart. Gladio slammed the doors behind him, wiping oil splatters off his once pristine uniform blazer. "Blew a jenny in the back...light's might be out in the men's room for awhile. Gonna take a few days to get new parts."

"Not a worry, Gladio, we'll all make do," Ignis said, getting up to pour some tea for them all, the scent of lemon filling the air. "Sometimes it feels like all this progress is more a step back than forwards..."

"Yeah, but, like, the King approves it all. And it's pretty great they made the carriages go without horses," Prompto said around a mouthful of pancake.

Noct's eyes had slid closed again, and his head was drooping again. Under the table, Prompto sharply kicked his ankle, shaking him awake. He kicked back, annoyed. "Quit it."

"Then quit sleeping in your food," Prompto shot back, icily, buttering a roll. For someone with such a thin build, Prompto ate enough to kill a cow at meals, and complained nearly all the time about still being hungry during runs and chores.

"I was up all night from the damn hammering," Noct said, a bit louder than he meant. His voice carried in the stone room, and it was impossible to ignore it. At the sideboard, Ignis' shoulders drooped, as he turned back with a filled tray. "Progress is progress, Noct. The King has those men working like dogs just to keep up with the demands."

"Wha...what demands?" Noct said, stuttering slightly in his annoyance. "Hot water isn't anything new, why do we need steam power for it?"

"It does a lot, Noct... your fancy weapons don't work on hope." Ignis smirked at this, knowing he'd gotten a good jab in for once. Living with the three of them and their sarcastic attitudes had been chipping away at the cold exterior of Ignis' personality the past few months, the Ice King showing a rotten core when he chose. The odd sarcastic joke or light hearted insult was becoming more and more common from the otherwise precise and predictable Ignis.

Gladio piled his plate with bacon, oil dripping on the already soiled tablecloth. Ignis' upper lip twitched, but he said nothing. Everything was a mess already, so what more harm did a few oil spots cause at this rate? Gladio was constantly dripping various things from jobs around the castle, and it often stained his clothes beyond cleaning.

In the age of progress, everyone had their chores, and not even Noct was free from it; his schedule included several pep talks to the people, and charity signings and readings of the trashy novel the castle's press had released, retelling the history of Insomnia in a soap opera style road trip, inventing an even more advanced society of motorized cars, robotic assassins, and hyper travels. It was quite popular, and Noct couldn't stand it. He'd tried to read it, but the fictional him, in leather and trench coats, wielding a sword running on laser power, was such a mind screw, he'd given up after awhile.

"Long story short, Noct... progress is going to keep on. The discoveries our scientists have made are amazing. Steam, who could've imagined even two or three years ago?" Ignis enthused, setting the tray down. The lemon tea was a specialty of his, lightly sugared, with a slice of cucumber adding flavor. The drink of royalty, yes, but a fine one.

"...fine. I get it. Just tell 'em to keep it the hell down at 2 am, or get them to add sound proofing to my rooms, okay?" His tone was a bit harsher than he'd intended, and Gladio winced, hastily swallowing his bacon. "Alright, guys...enough."

"Yeah, getting into a war isn't a good idea right now..." Prompto began, but he cut himself off.

"...got something to tell us, there, Prom?" Noct asked, raising an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Uh...uhmmm..." Prompto went several shades of red, and suddenly became very preoccupied with shifting the lemon in his tea, sipping it carefully.

"Prom..." Noct said, warningly.

"Alright, fine!" Prompto's cheeks went scarlet. "...we're going on a thing..."

"A thing?" Gladio chuckled. "Simplifying much, Prom?"

"What Prompto has spoiled early was meant to be a surprise..." Ignis said, sourly, gathering the dirty plates. "We're to travel to Altissa, beginning this afternoon. As soon as we're done with our food, and have met with the king."

"Why?" Noct asked, fiddling with his watch. He popped the golden cover, a light melody tinkling. His watch was wrong, as he'd forgotten to wind it, but he hadn't opened it to check the time.

Smiling serenely at him, Lunafreya glanced at him sideways from the picture inside the watch frame, a fancy one in colour that showed the silver blonde of her hair, cherry red of her dress and corset. It was a lovely picture, and it was the only way he knew her now. They'd met often as children, playing in the halls as their parents discussed the matters of the kingdom. Even as children, they knew they were to marry as adults, as Lunafreya had a long, convoluted destiny to uphold. Noct didn't understand, didn't pretend to fully: Luna, as he called her, had her life, her worries, and he had his. They were almost like cousins rather than spouses to be, writing letters once a year, and meeting, silently, at banquets. The last time Noct had met her, Luna had presented him with the watch, radiant in a silver gown and hat. She'd only said a few words to him, but he still remember them.

"When ever things get too rough, just know I'm there to listen."

Luna, he thought, staring into the picture's silvery eyes, god sometimes I wish you were here.

Noct had, as a rule, been forbidden from any prolonged exposure to women, beyond the frumpy maids and dithery chamber girls. Not that he wanted to attempt courting one, but sometimes, thinking of Luna, not smelling of oil or burnt food like the others so often did, sitting there quietly to listen to his worries soothed him in ways he couldn't fully articulate.

"...visit Altissa on her command," Ignis had been saying, but Noct hadn't listened. He glanced up, right as the cogs and gears in the wall began to grind, the bell ringing from its perch in the tower. Breakfast was over, the bell signifying the changing of any dirty linens on the table, and clearing away the dirty dishes. Everyone else shuffled for the door, but Noct hung back, looking out the window at the gardens, pipes running along the top of the walls to carry rainwater to the blossoms and shrubs, a mechanical cupid spinning dully in the fountain nearby.

It was lovely, but smacked of this "progress" everyone was so in love with. Steam and oil power, bringing the world into a new era, the past of the 1850's left behind in a hot cloud of steam from a passing motor car or ride-cart. It was scary, and Noct didn't know how he was going to rule a kingdom progressing further than he was used to.

Finally, he meandered outside, sitting on the benches beneath the grand hall's windows, barely hidden if anyone wanted him, but alone for the second.

"...Noct?" Prompto, leaning out the window, suit coat undone. "You okay, buddy?"

"...I'm just thinking, Prom. What's up?"

Prompto slid from the window onto the bench, dropping down next to Noct. "So...uh...everything good?" He asked, fixing his coat. As usual, his spats were crooked, and he'd forgotten to do up one suspender. Prompto would probably forget his head if it wasn't tied on.

"...I'm just thinking. Things are...moving too fast for my liking." He closed his watch, sliding it back into his pocket. "Not even five years ago we were living well, and now steam is blowing up our arses. What even happened?"

"Just progress, buddy. Nothing you can do anything about." Prompto shrugged, watching the cupid rise up, water blowing from its little horn to water the rose bushes nearby. "It makes things easier, anyway."

Noct shrugged, fiddling with the buckle on his suit coat. "...what's the big deal, really? What were you on about this morning?"

Prompto went very red, and began fixing his trouser creases, like someone important was watching, and they needed to be perfectly presentable.

"..Prom, your crease is going to poke someone's eye out, quit it!" Noct snapped, pulling Prompto's hand away. "Spill."

"...we'regoingtoAltissatomeetLunafreyaearlyforthewedding!" Prompto exploded, in a long winded vocal tic. Noct's eyes widened, eyebrows raised. "The wedding isn't until next month. Why go meet her? Isn't she busy with that thing..."

"Uh, well...Leviathon Oil finished the merger. Lunafreya is rolling in the dough, and...uhm...the king kinda thought...the marriage should go on now, rather than later."

"...I guess I don't get a say, do I?" Noct said, sourly.

"Not when it comes to this," Ignis said, leaning out the window. "The carriage is ready to go, Noct. The king sends his regards."

"Dad can't even be bothered to say goodbye, huh?" Noct said, getting to his feet. He put his bowler on, glancing at the castle: the lights were on in the king's chambers, the curtains tightly drawn. "...fine. I see how it is."

"Where'd I...?" Prompto trailed off, looking around the benche. "My walking stick! Gladio, I'm going to kill you if you used it as a oil stick again!"

Gladio's laughter echoed from inside, Prompto stomping off with clenched fists.

The carriage had once been pulled by six geldings, solid black with dappled spots, golden tackles hitching them to the carriage front. When steam power grew, the horses were replaced with two long rubes, sticking out behind to power it along, the tackle for the driver replaced with a shiny steering wheel. It was they very picture of modern progress.

Gladio had been wrestled into a red two piece, hat crookedly shoved down on his too short hair, collar crooked on his wide shoulders. Prompto had found his stick in the dog's bed, and held it tightly to his side, fresh teeth marks marring the once pristine cherry wood finish.

Noct adjusted his cufflinks, about to get into the carriage seat-

"Noctis."

He turned, blinking in the sudden bright sunlight: his father, regal and proper in a black suit and trousers, top hat gleaming on his head. The dress of a man clothed to impress business partners, as opposed to practicality.

"Father," Noct said, nodding.

"...I want you to know, Noct, that I think this is for the best. Lunafreya will make our kingdom whole again. The industry and oil production will go up, and..."

A smile split his greying beard. "...I'd finally hear children running about again."

Even though everything in him was yelling against it, Noct nodded again, taking the gloved hand his father extended, shaking it properly. "Thank you..."

"...you've you weapons. Food?""

"Everything we could need, sire," Ignis said, a jaunty motoring cap perched on his head. "I'll make sure we make it alive."

"Good man," the king nodded. With a curt, tight bow, he turned, and went back inside, as Noct took a long, final look at the castle above him, the sun making the stones seem to glow.

Final? Now why, why did he think of it that way?

"Noct!" Prompto called, already in the carriage.

"Coming," he said, fixing his hat. "I'm coming."


End file.
